


Beauty and the Dark Lord

by HappyCatTaxi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Beauty and the Beast - Harry Potter retelling, Broken family in later chapters, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Family, Threats, Threats of Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-08-06 15:39:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16390466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyCatTaxi/pseuds/HappyCatTaxi
Summary: Beauty and the Beast with a Harry Potter twist. Hermione Granger is the daughter of a merchant. When he loses all his fortune the family moves to the village of Little Hangleton. There she is warned of the mysterious and magical forest, and the beast that lives within. Then one day her father goes and gets himself lost in the forest and she will do anything to help him – even making a deal with a beast.





	1. Changes

**Author's Note:**

> All canon characters, plots, dialogue, and situations from the Harry Potter series belongs to JK Rowling. I am not profiting from this work.  
> I don't see any redeeming qualities in Voldemort, so his character is changed the most from his canon-character.
> 
> The story has not been beta'ed.
> 
> Around the time of the release of the Beauty and the Beast movie with Emma Watson, I saw the video by PistolShrimps on Youtube called Beauty and Lord Voldemort. If you haven't seen it, go check it out. That video inspired me to write this version of the story. The story was first published on ffnet, but I'm editing it before posting it here.
> 
> Warning! Later chapters deals with a broken family and violence. It is not graphic, but I will give a warning anyway.

 

 

 

 

In a faraway land there lived a pretty girl called Hermione Granger. She was the daughter of Lewis Granger; a merchant and a very wealthy one at that. His ships were renowned throughout the country for always bringing back luxurious items from the far corners of the world. He married the most beautiful girl in the county, Lady Michelle, and they lived a very happy life, for he was rich and she was handsome. As their only child, Hermione was showered in love from the moment she joined them five years into their marriage. They wanted more children, but were never able to.

When Hermione reached her fourteenth year, her mother passed away. She had been sick with fever for months, but the doctors were not able to help her and she wasted away. On a Sunday in the late autumn, she departed this world and left her husband and daughter devastated.

Unfortunately that was not the only tragedy to strike the Granger household as over the next three years Mr Granger’s ships hit a streak of bad luck; three ships had sunk in storms, two ships had been attacked by pirates, and one ship had not been seen in more than a year and was presumed lost. With the loss of his ships, Mr Granger lost everything. All his wealth was tied up in the ships and their cargo. Nothing was in reserve, as Mr Granger had never believed such catastrophe could befall him. The Grangers had nothing but each other and the little money they would be able to raise in auctioning off most of their personal belongings. The money could be used to start a new life, but Mr Granger was unsure where to go. The city that had been his home for decades suddenly saw him only as a cursed man and not as the screwed businessman he had been.

Just four days before the auction, a letter arrived. It was from Catherine Smith, a relative of Lady Michelle. Mrs Smith had married a lowly innkeeper out of love and had been disowned by her family as a consequence. Only one family member had supported her and been steadfast in her loyalty and that was Lady Michelle. Having heard of the disaster that befell the family, Mrs Smith wanted to repay the help she had received from Lady Michelle, and thus she offered Mr and Miss Granger a new home in the village of Little Hangleton near the great forest of Shadow Hills. It was nothing grand like they were used to, but it was a place to start a new life. It didn’t take Mr Ganger long to decide and after a short discussion with Hermione, the family was ready to go.

The journey to Little Hangleton would take about a month, so they needed to prepared a wagon and set out as soon as they could before the winter storms set in. When Hermione found that her horse, Philippe, could be used to draw the wagon, she was ecstatic to remove him from the auctions. He was after all her best friend, so the thought of leaving him behind did not sit well with her. Apart from Philippe and a painting of her mother, the items they brought were few and only those that could not fetch a good price at an auction.

The journey ended up taking just under four weeks as the weather had been surprisingly good. They arrived in Little Hangleton tired, but excited about their new life. Mrs Smith met them as they arrived and showed them to their little house. It was small; much smaller than she had imagined. After moving their items into the house, Hermione took a quick walk around the garden while leaving her father to himself. She took a deep breath to smell the scents of their new home, but found it lacking. The biggest difference between the city and Little Hangleton, was that she could not see nor smell the sea. It wasn’t until she was so far from it, that she realized it had been a constant factor in her life and now she missed it dearly. The hills and trees that surrounded her now, were an incredible sight, but it was not home. How could she possibly imagine living here? She looked through the dirty windows and saw her father sitting hunched forward with his head in his hands. She noticed how much he had changed over the last few years. Since her mother’s death, her father had not been the same. He was a broken man, and she swore she would help him the best she could. If it meant she had to smile and pretend their new home was to her liking, so be it. For her father she would do anything.  

Mrs Smith was widowed years ago and she had taken over running the local inn after her husband. It was not a large inn compared to the ones in the city, but as the only establishment in the village that sold beer, she had a very prosperous venture. The Grangers ate at the inn every day as neither one of them knew how to cook. Mrs Smith enjoyed looking after them and they appreciated all her help, so when Mrs Smith sat down with Hermione to warn her of the dangers in the forest Hermione took her quite serious.

“Our part of the world has something not seen in the big city,” Mrs Smith started with a sad smile.

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked.

“Magic,” was the only reply.

“How so?” Hermione asked sceptically. “Magic is not real.”

“There is magic in the land around us,” Mrs Smith replied quite serious. “The forest is so full of magic that at night it comes alive.”

It was only fondness for Mrs Smith that kept Hermione from laughing out loud and leaving the table. She would listen to her, but she was quite convinced the older woman was sharing old wives’ tales with no root in reality. With her education, she could not possibly believe such stories.

“A beast lives in the forest and it attacks at night, so you should never go outside in the late evenings and never enter the forest!”

Perhaps Mrs Smith was spinning a tale to try and frighten her, so she would not be out at night? If she believed in magic, the tactic might work, but as it was, Hermione smiled kindly and nodded along, while completely dismissing the warning.

“Please, my dear girl,” Mrs Smith urged. “Do not go wandering in the forest and never leave your house at night. The magic will make you get lost and then the beast will eat your soul!”

“Do not worry,” Hermione said with a pleasant smile. “I am not one to wander so I am quite safe from this beast.”

“I am very glad to hear it,” Mrs Smith replied.

“Have you ever seen the beast?” Hermione asked innocently, but with just a hint of mockery. Luckily Mrs Smith didn’t seem to notice and replied as seriously as before.

“No, I have never seen the beast myself, but I hear it is a great and terrible beast...”

With an overbearing smile she let Mrs Smith say all she knew of the beast while she thought of something else; should she try to grow vegetables in the garden? If they ever learned to cook themselves, it would be nice to have some foods close at hand.

...

The Grangers had settled into their new lives easily enough. With her resolve to make sure her father did not break more than he already had, she smiled more often and commented positively on the village. Thus she became a guiding light in his life. Her positivity rubbed off on him and soon both of them were genuinely happy. It might have started in a falsehood, but it kept going out of love.

Mr Granger found work at Mrs Smith’s. She needed help with her bookkeeping and was happy to take him on; he was family and he was good at what he did.

Hermione did not find work. A woman with her education did not work, but in a village where everyone worked her choice was not looked upon with favourable eyes. The villagers saw her as a bit of a snob, while she saw herself as superior to them. It didn’t bother her at first, but she alienated herself from the others. They would whisper behind her back, but she could hear them clearly.

“She is beautiful, but she acts so superior!”

“She has a fancy education, but what good is that if she cannot cook?”

“She will never find a husband in these parts!”

“She is not one of us and never will be!”

She didn’t care what they thought of her; she only cared about her father and his happiness.

...

Just as the worst of the winter storms had passed, a letter arrived from the city. It brought the most wonderful news; one of Mr Granger’s ships had returned safely to the harbour. It was the ship that had been missing at sea for over a year. Miraculously it had survived and so had the cargo. Mr Granger had to hurry to the city to claim the cargo before his creditors took it. As he was about to leave he asked Hermione what she wanted from the city. She considered it for a long time, but the item she craved the most could not possibly survive the long journey; a cake from the baker around the corner.

“A bag of rose seeds,” she finally replied. “I don’t see any roses in these parts and they are my favourite flower. If you can find some, I would be very grateful.”

“For you my dear, I would bring the world,” he replied as he swung himself up on Philippe and set out.

Realistically it would take at least two months until his return, so in that time Hermione was much alone and for the first time she considered if she had been too hasty to write off the villagers. She was lonely and she wanted friends; she tried to make amends for her behaviour, but she was brushed-off and ignored. Enlisting the help of Mrs Smith to recommend her, did not help and she was unable to make friends. She knew it was her own fault for thinking herself better than the others, but it still hurt when she recognised Mrs Smith as her only friend, and she was unable to answer whether Mrs Smith was her friend only because they were family.

The months were not happy for Hermione and time moved so slowly. She was looking forward to her father’s return. Hopefully he would arrive back with good tidings.

...

One day little more than two months after Mr Granger set out and as Hermione was making her way across the village from the inn to her home, she was stopped by Mr Gaston. He was the most popular man in town and she tried to be nice to him, so as to show she was not the snob they thought of her. However, Mr Gaston was making it quite difficult for her. He was the quintessence country bumpkin she had expected to meet in this village.

“Hey Gorgeous,” he called after her.

She turned to look at him, but didn’t reply.

“I hear your father has not returned yet. Why don’t you come to Widow Smith’s tonight? There is no reason for you to sit alone when you could spend your evening having fun with me.”

“Please, I am not interested,” she replied as she tried to sidestep him.

“It’s about time you get your nose out of the sky and focus on something more important; me!”

“Mr Gaston, please,” she replied while she tried to slip away. In a very ungentlemanly action he captured her arm as she moved past, and pulled her towards him. Shock graced her features and she looked at him in stunned disbelief.

“Sir, release me at once!”

Instead he pulled harder on her arm and she almost fell into his embrace where he tried to kiss her. She slapped him across the face and was able to break free of his embrace. She fled from him with tears in her eyes.

She knew she should have to marry one day for she could not depend on her father for all her life, but she would rather become an old maid than be married to someone like Mr Gaston! Never had she felt less respected than in that situation. He had acted as if it was his right to command her and do as he wished! His action showed his moral character for all it was; absent!

Unfortunately her encounter with Mr Gaston did nothing to change the opinions of the villagers and she was alienated even more. Slapping the most powerful man in the village was not the best decision, but she could not regret her action. It had not been wise, but it had been the proper thing to do and she would not change her mind.

…

Less than a week after her encounter with Mr Gaston a new cause for concern reached her. The arrival of Philippe should have brought good news, but it was a terrified girl who greeted the restless and riderless horse. Not understanding what could possibly have happened to her father, she removed the saddlebags, which were still fastened to the saddle.

“Where is Father?” she asked as she tried to calm the agitated horse down, but he was unable to relax and instead he was stepping sideways and jerking his head. She ran her hands over his neck to mollify him, but was surprised to feel thorns in his mane. Upon closer examination she discovered the remains of roses in his mane. Had he run through a rose garden? Quickly she brushed him to remove all the thorns and it started to calm the horse.

“What happened?” she whispered looking in the direction Philippe had come. He had come rushing straight from the forest.

“Is Father in the forest?” she asked looking at Philippe, but he didn’t reply. Her father could not possibly be lost in the forest, could he?

“We must find Father,” she stated and jumped on Philippe’s back.

The tracks were easy to follow in the grassland, but it became more difficult when they reached the forest. They rode around the forest for hours, but saw no trace of her father, and slowly she got them lost as well. It wasn’t until the sun started to set that she realized she had no idea which direction was home.

“I’m sorry, Philippe! I have gotten us lost!” She didn’t know what to do; her father might be lost in the forest and now she had managed to get herself lost also, and no one knew where she was, so no one would come looking for her. She could feel tears of frustration running down her cheeks.

As the darkness surrounded her, she could see a small flickering light in the distance. Hoping it was a house she moved forward deciding to ask for help. The path was narrow, so she jumped off Philippe and lead him along. As she got nearer to the light, she could see it was solitary lamp hanging on a huge wall. The sight was surprising and it’s presence made no sense; why was there a wall in the middle of the forest? Curious she walked closer to the wall and noticed a big iron gate. She pressed her face against the gate and tried to look through it. She was just about able to make out a huge building on the other side. It looked almost like a castle.

“It looks abandoned from here,” she mused. “Will I be able to find someone to help me find Father?”

Knowing it would be better to rest the night in an abandoned castle than to sleep under the trees, she opened the gate and lead Philippe through. The gate swung open surprisingly easy.

Something on the ground caught her attention and she picked it up.

“Father’s hat!” she exclaimed. “He was here!”

She rushed to the castle in hopes of finding her father. The castle had to be abandoned because no lights were turned on and the garden was overgrown. Nothing indicated that anyone lived there, but maybe her father had been hurt falling off Philippe and had sought refuge inside?

Philippe was tied to a pole outside and she continued to the large front doors. She knocked once and the door swung open without resistance.

“Hello?” she called moving into the hallway. “Is anyone here?”

The hallway was dark and not a sound could be heard.

“I’m looking for my father,” she called as she moved further inside. Suddenly a light flickered on much further ahead.

“Hello?” she tried again, but still there was no reply. However, more lamps turned on one by one. It looked like the lights were being lit by someone moving away from her. Why did they not reply? Maybe it was a mute? She hurried after the light, which moved even faster than her. The lights guided her along the hallway and down a stairway. It ended in a dungeon, which looked too much like a prison and gave her a bad feeling.

“Hello?” she called again and this time there was a reply.

“Is anybody there?” the voice was weak and raspy, but she would recognise it anywhere.

“Father!”

“Hermione?” he asked surprised. “Is it really you?”

She followed his voice to a cell. The door was barred and locked, but she could see between the bars.

“How did you find me?” her father coughed.

“Father, you are sick! We have to get you out of here!” she called looking at the now lit walls for a key.

“There is no time to explain,” Mr Granger replied. “You must leave immediately! This place is dangerous.”

“I won’t leave you, Father,” she said shaking the door trying to open it. Suddenly she could not move a single muscle in her body. She tried to speak but found her mouth forced shut. Every part of her body was frozen, except her eyes. She could move her eyes, but she just stared straight ahead at her father who looked horrified.

“NO! Let her go,” he screamed to something behind her.

“I am the master of this castle,” a new voice hissed. “You are trespassing on my property. Why are you here?”

And just as suddenly as it had happen, she was able to move again.

“I’ve come for my father,” she replied turning towards the new voice, but she could not see who it belong to as he was standing in the darkness. “Please, let him go.”

“He trespassed on my grounds and destroyed my garden. I will not let him go.” The voice hissed back.

“Can’t you see he is sick? He could die!”

“Then he should not have destroyed my garden!”

“Please, I’ll do anything if you let him go!”

“There is nothing you could do. He is my prisoner.”

“There must be a way…,” she thought out loud. Then it came to her, but could she do it? Could she give away her future? For her father she could do anything. “Take me instead!”

“You?” the voice hissed. “Why would I want you?”

“Hermione, no!” her father called.

“I can work! I can clean,” she begged. “Let me take his place.”

For a while there was no reply, but suddenly she felt a warm gust of wind caress her face. It was so sudden and brief that she would have thought it a trick of the mind if not for the strands of hair that was blown around her face.

“What is that?” she asked while trying to correct her hair. The journey through the forest had forced some big curls to escaped the confines of the chignon and now they hang in dishevelled locks around her face.

“I need a new maid,” the voice hissed.

“Please, take me on and let my father go,” she begged again.

“Then you must stay here forever.”

“If I do, you will let my father go?”

“Yes.”

“Hermione, you don’t know what you getting yourself into. Don’t do this! I’ve lived my life,” her father begged. “I can’t let you do this!”

“I’ll stay,” Hermione answered and ignored her father’s begging.

“Done,” the voice hissed.

The cell door swung open and Mr Granger ran out to  hug his daughter. “Don’t do this,” he begged again and again, but she was adamant in her decision.

“Father, I have agreed,” she whispered. “I must stay here. Please, be well and think of me fondly.”

“My dear daughter…,” Mr Granger started, but was violently yanked away.

She looked up and the sight terrified her. The hand holding her father belonged to an unnaturally thin man. His skin was white, he was completely bald, and the eyes that looked upon her were red with cat-like pupils, but the most horrifying thing about him was his nose or rather lack thereof. Where his nose should have been there were only slits for nostrils.

“No, you monster!” her father cried while the ghost-like man dragged him from the dungeon. She tried to follow, but the strange sensation of being unable to move her body returned and she found herself stuck on the floor while her father disappeared from view.

It felt like she was stuck for hours, but it must only have been minutes, because once she could move again, she jumped up and ran from the dungeon. She ran as fast as she could towards the entrance door only to see the ghost-man closing the door.

“You father is on his way back to his home. He will return safely to the village,” he said.

“You didn’t let me say goodbye,” she scolded while she flew past him and swung open the door. She could make out a faint light moving from the castle.

“The carriage will make sure your father is safe until he is out of the forest,” he said. “I kept my word. Now you must keep yours.”

“Yes,” she whispered still looking at the light disappearing from view. Would she ever see her father again?

“I will show you to your room,” he hissed and closed the door. He started to walk away and she followed him quickly.

“My room?” she asked surprised.

“You want to stay in the dungeon?”

“No, but I thought…”

“Do you think my servants sleep in cells?” he asked, but didn’t give her time to answer. “The castle is your home now, so you can go anywhere inside and outside, but you cannot leave the castle grounds.” He led her along corridors and up staircases.

“What will my work be?”

“Follow my servants and do as they do,” he said.

“Where are the servants,” she asked. “I have not seen anyone around.”

“You should be able to see them in time,” he replied cryptically.

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course not,” he hissed and stopped in front of a door. “This is your room. Your work starts tomorrow, so settle in fast. I will send Mrs Potts to you. She can answer your questions.”

“Thank you,” she replied automatically and opened the door. The room beyond was enormous. She turned towards the man sure it was a mistake, but he had disappeared completely.

She entered the room and looked around. There was a large bed on one side and huge windows on the other. There were also a wardrobe, a big desk, and even a couch. Even when living in the city had she never had a room this extravagant before. But though the room was everything she could possibly ever wish for, a feeling of despair settled over her. She would never see her father again. The only person who mattered to her more than life itself and he would be lost to her forever. Her vision blurred and she felt tears running down her cheeks.

She dropped to the floor crying. She cried for her father, for her new predicament, and for all she had lost. The only comfort she could cling to was that her father would be safe.

A knock on the door surprised her, but she realised it must be Mrs Potts.

“Come in,” she called drying her tears.

The door opened, but no one entered.

“Hello?” she called rising from the floor and moving to the door. “Is anyone here?”

She could not see anyone or anything. Nothing stirred around her, and she thought she must have imagined it. She sat down on the bed and closed her eyes. It was all so overwhelming. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves.

“... not see us?” a female voice suddenly asked.

“And she can’t hear us either,” a male voice said.

“She should be able to,” a second female said.

“Who is there?” Hermione asked looking about the room. “Who are you?”

“Can you hear us?” the first female voice asked.

“Yes, but I don’t understand. Where are you?”

“We are right here,” the male said. “Why can’t she see us?”

“I don’t know,” the female replied.

“Maybe…,” the second female asked.

“Maybe what?” Hermione asked.

“Have you ever performed magic before coming here?”

“Magic? What do you mean. Magic exists only in books. It is not real.”

“How could she never have performed magic?” the male asked shocked.

“Magic is real,” the second female voice said. “The entire castle is full of magic. Everything here is enchanted.”

“How so?”

“Muggles see only a neglected castle,” the first female said.

“What is a Muggle?”

“Someone with no magical talent.”

“I saw a deserted castle!” Hermione said, “so I am not magical.”

“But you are,” the second female said. “Along with this castle we are also enchanted. You could neither see nor hear us if you were not yourself magical.”

“But I can’t see you!”

“Maybe your magical talent is not very big or maybe it is just not used to being utilised,” the second female said.

“We cannot perform magic ourselves, so we don’t really know. Maybe the master knows?” the first female said.

“The Ghost-Monster?” Hermione asked surprised.

“Who?” the male asked.

“The Master,” the first female clarified.

“But he is not a monster,” the man argued.

“It depends on who you ask,” the second female said. “I believe the Master did not make a good impression on this young lady.”

“I heard loud yelling earlier, but I didn’t realize,” the man mused.

“I brought tea for you, dear. Do you want a cup?” the first female asked to change the direction of the conversation.

“Yes, please, but is it invisible like you?”

“Can you close your eyes and take a deep breath,” the second female asked and Hermione complied. “Hold out your hands now. Mrs Potts give her the cup slowly.”

“Good idea,” the first female replied. “I am putting the cup into your hands now, dear.”

“Open your eyes,” the second female said.

Slowly she opened her eyes and was surprised to see a cup and saucer placed in her hands.

“I see it,” Hermione whispered. She could see it clearly and make out the flowery pattern on the cup. She raised the cup to her lips and took a sip. Warmth spread throughout her body. “Thank you.”

“The cup is not magical so you should be able to see it, but I wasn’t certain,” the second female said. “I am happy it worked so well.”

“Do you need anything else, dear girl?” the first female voice asked.

“No, nothing you can help me with I’m afraid,” she replied. “This is just so strange.”

“What is?” the male asked.

“All of it… this castle, you… it feels like I am in the middle of a dream,” she admitted

“Hopefully you will feel better tomorrow and if you have any questions just ask.”

“It would be so much easier if I could see you,” Hermione sighed. “I don’t even know your names!”

“Oh, that is easily rectified,” the first female said. “I am Mrs Potts, the head housekeeper.”

“I am Lumiere and I am the castle's maître d,” the male said.

“I am Plumette,” the second female said. “I am a maid.”

“Some of us call her PadPad,” Lumiere added laughing.

“Why?” Hermione asked confused.

“I don’t remember,” Lumiere admitted.

“What is your name, dear?” Mrs Potts asked.

“I am Hermione Granger.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Hermione,” Plumette replied.

"We will leave you now so you can have a rest before tomorrow," Mrs Potts said.

Shortly after they left and Hermione felt very much alone again. It was nice to talk to someone, but they confused her immensely. Magic? An enchanted castle? Invisible servants? It was too much to understand and her thoughts were running wild. When she finally fell asleep, her rest was troubled by dreams of ghost-monsters.

…

Over the next week Hermione came to the kitchen every morning and tried to help, but they would not let her. They were afraid for both her safety and their own, since she could still not see them and might risk simply walking into someone carrying a knife or something similar which might harm her. Instead they would ask her to sit down with a cup of tea and allow them to ask questions of the world outside their borders. They could not quite remember what the outside world was, but felt that they should know it. She also asked them questions about the castle and how it came to be enchanted, but they were vague in their answers, which at first she thought was out of loyalty to the Monster, but later found was simply because they didn’t remember. Actually, they didn’t seem to remember much. It was not clear to Hermione if they had forgotten or if they just never considered the questions. She wasn’t even certain whether the servants were human or not.

The one thing they were certain of was that an enchantment was placed over the castle and everyone in it, and they knew it was anchored to the curse on the Master. Somehow the Master was the key, they said. They asked her if she could possibly help them. If the curse on the Master could be broken, they were certain the enchantment would fall away. They thought the curse was vile and evil, but they could not break it. If it was not too much trouble, would Hermione look at it. Maybe her new eyes would find clues they could not see.

She agreed to their plan, of course she did. They were friendly to her and she would have promised them anything just to have friends.

During the days she explored the castle, but she didn’t find any clues. True, she didn’t know what she was looking for, but she was certain clues would stand out to her. The castle was huge and there were many places to search, so she would not give up.

The Ghost-Monster had not shown himself since that first day, so she was starting to relax.

On her eight day in the castle, she was exploring the outdoors. The castle grounds were large, but she felt drawn to the flower garden. It was more beautiful than she had imagined and it was much better kept than she had thought when she arrived. The only sore spot in the gardens was an old, sickly looking tree. It looked like a dying rose tree. There were no other rose trees in the gardens, and she wondered how Philippe had been covered in rose thorns. This tree at least did not look like it could provide any flowers.

“Hermione! Hermione, come quickly!” Plumette called sounding out of breath.

“What is it?”

“You must come quickly. The Master is requesting your presence.”

Together they hurried inside and to the kitchen, where Mrs Potts waited for them.

“Bring the Master his tea. I have prepared it, but he asked for you to bring it to him in the library.”

The tray was clearly visible to Hermione, so with shaking hands she grabbed it. She was trying to hurry through the castle with Plumette calling out the way. As soon as she reached the doors to the library she took a deep breath before knocking and entering.

As soon as she opened the door, she felt his eyes upon her.

“I apologise for the delay,” she said setting the tray down. She focused on the tray so as to not have to look at his hideous features.

He didn’t reply, but kept watching her.

“How do you like your tea?”

“Two lemons, one sugar,” came the reply.

He was still looking at her and she made the mistake of looking up at him. His eyes were cold and hard, and she suddenly knew that he knew how she spent her days. He knew, she was investigating rather than working. It instilled a fear in her and as she was making the tea her hands shook terribly. She took a deep calming breath and brought the cup to him. When it was placed in front of him she moved to leave the room.

“Stay,” he said while sipping his tea. She stood to one side with her head bent and her eyes downcast. She knew he was on to her, how could he not be. How horrible might his revenge be for skipping on her duty?

The Monster was quietly sipping his tea. He was so quiet; she could not actually hear him. Apparently, he could move quietly also as she suddenly realized when he was in front of her grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at him. His face was too close and she tried to back away, but he held her fast. Her terrified eyes looked into his cold gaze.

“ _Legilimens_!"

She felt her mind wander to her conversations with the servants, their plan to have her break the curse and investigate the enchantment. She thought of her exploration of the castle and the ground.

He broke eye contact and her mind was back in the library. He started to laugh; not a pleasant happy laugh, but a menacing laugh that scared her. She tried to move away from his grip.

“You think you can break this curse?” he hissed while still holding her chin. “It is too powerful for you.”

“I…,” she started but couldn’t speak due to her fright.

“By all means, continue your investigating, but let me give you a warning. This curse is my punishment.”

“What for?” she whispered.

“Murder,” he hissed leaning closer to her face before releasing her chin. She scrambled away from him while he challenged her laughingly; “Do you feel brave enough to continue?”


	2. Monster

After her encounter with the Monster Hermione was even more terrified than before. She knew he was a monster, but to have confirmation that he was also a murderer was apparently more than she knew how to deal with. Why she was so scared, she couldn’t say. It took the combined efforts of Mrs Potts, Plumette, and lots and lots of tea to calm her down enough to talk about the encounter.

“I don’t understand why he scares me so,” Hermione murmured.

“Of course your mind is easily distressed,” Mrs Potts soothed.

“I’m not distressed,” she argued though she knew it was a lie.

“Dear girl,” Mrs Potts sighed. “Your life changed so much lately; you lost your father and your freedom all in one day.”

“Not to mention your changing environments over the last couple of months,” Plumette added.

Hermione took a big sip of her tea before changing the conversation; "Let’s not talk about me. Whose murder was the Monster referring to?"

“I have no idea,” Mrs Potts admitted. “I have never heard of the Master killing anyone.”

“Mrs Potts, we don’t remember what it was like before the enchantment settled here,” Plumette argued.

“But the Master could not have changed so much?” Mrs Potts asked. “He is such a sweet boy, he would not harm anyone.”

“I cannot believe that,” Hermione exclaimed.

“He is not a monster,” Mrs Potts argued.

“He would have let my father die!”

“He was a very bad host to your father,” Plumette admitted looking pointedly at Mrs Potts to have her drop the defense. With a nod Mrs Potts agreed and deflated. Plumette knew that in her current state Hermione would not listen to any kind words about the Master. He would have to figure out how to fix that himself. Hermione would not have noticed Mrs Potts and Plumette’s veiled signs even had she been able to see them, because her mind was completely occupied by wondering why Mrs Potts had such a complete trust and belief in the Monster.

“I wonder why you can’t remember anything from before the curse,” Hermione mused. “How long has the curse actually been here?”

“Five years,” Mrs Potts replied.

“More than a hundred years,” Plumette said.

They looked at each other in confusion and said in almost perfect unison; “You must be mistaken.”

“Nothing has changed since the curse,” Mrs Potts said. “It could not possibly have been such a long period.”

“The rose tree grew,” Plumette argued. “The tree has been growing bigger and bigger for as long as I can remember. It was only recently it started to wilt.”

“The dead rose tree in the garden outside?” Hermione asked. “It looked to be quite old.”

“It used to carry the most beautiful roses,” Mrs Potts replied dreamily.

“I wonder what could have destroyed it so," Plumette said.

"Roses grow fast, but they are usually limited to the height of bushes. The tree outside is bigger than any rose tree I have ever seen," Hermione replied. “It has to be at least a few decades old.”

"It is magical," Mrs. Potts said as if that answered everything.

"What does that even mean? What does magic do?"

"Changes it," Mrs Potts offered.

"But how? And changed it into what? And has the magic also changed you and the the castle?"

"I… I don't know," Mrs Potts admitted and Plumette was just as lost.

Lumiere and Cogsworth, who was the Monster’s butler, came rushing into the kitchen.

“What did we miss?” Lumiere asked.

“Who did the Monster kill?” Hermione asked frankly which made Cogsworth gasp in surprise and spring to his master’s defense similarly to Mrs Potts had done earlier.

“The Master would never murder anyone!”

“He admitted to me that he had killed someone and that the curse was his punishment!” she argued.

“You must have misunderstood him. He is not the monster you think. You must have done something to anger him yesterday and so he tricked you.”

“No way,” Hermione said taken aback by Cogsworth. She didn’t like him because he just seemed to agree to anything the Monster would say.

“We can ask him?” Lumiere suggested trying to lighten the mood. “Maybe he will answer us honestly.”

“You can try, but I don’t think he will admit anything,” Hermione replied with a slight smile.

….

Hermione spent a few days investigating inside, but her mind kept going to the rose tree. It had to be important, so she decided to look at it again. She made her away directly to the tree and stared at it; so, this tree was magical, but what did that even mean? She knew she had to understand to be able to break the curse. If the tree was the only thing to have changed over the last many years, there had to be a connection between the tree and the curse.

Looking closely at the tree it was clearly dying. It looked like it was wilting and it was starting at the branches. No, that was not quite right. It was starting in one specific branch. This branch had a cut mark on one side and this was the point from which the wilting started.

“That cannot be,” she exclaimed. She was not a gardener, but even she knew roses needed to be trimmed and cut down to grow the most beautiful flowers, so why did this tree start to die from a single cut? The wilting turned the leaves and branches dark, but it was the deepest black around the cut mark. She had never seen wilting like this before.

“What kind of knife was used?” she asked the tree though not really expecting a reply, but still very much aware that this was a magical tree and maybe it could reply in speaking. Oh, magic was so confusing!

“I wonder what it looks like under all the blackness,” she mused. “Has this disease destroyed the tree completely or is it only on the outside?”

Using the little knife she carried in her pocket, she started to scratch the surface. The blackness was as deep as she could see and could be scraped off in small soft flakes. She tried squeezing the the branch between two fingers. It was surprisingly soft and flexible. When she bent it, it didn’t break and once she let go, it rose to the original position. She looked at her knife again and with a quick decision she pushed it deep into the branch. With very little force, she was able to push the knife in so deeply the end was sticking out on the other side. Quickly she removed the knife and was surprised to see it was covered in a black liquid. The same liquid was slowly pouring out of the cut she had made.

“What is that?” she asked and touched it with her fingers. Smearing it around with her fingers, she saw that it was not black, but very dark red.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?” the Monster yelled angrily, pushing her away from the tree. “WHAT IS IT WITH YOU AND YOUR FATHER TO CUT AND DESTROY MY ROSES!”

“I…,” she had fallen to the ground when she was pushed, but she was scared for her life. The Monster looked murderous.

“GET AWAY!” he barked and she did as told. She got to her feet quickly and ran to the castle. She looked back once to see the Monster caressing the tree and running his hands over the branches.

She didn’t want to hide, but she was scared of the Monster and was not ready to face him. The Monster had said her father had cut the tree, so the cut mark on the branch was his doing and he might have started the infection. Was that the reason he was in the dungeon? And here she was going around poking holes in the same tree making it bleed a strange liquid. She didn't want to hide like a coward but she also didn't have a lot of courage to face him. She hid in the library in an attempt to convince herself she was not hiding but only seeking comfort among the books. She didn't have long to calm down before the door was blown open and the Monster walked in. His eyes were cold and he looked ready to strike her.

"Of course, hiding in the library," he hissed and moved towards her.

"Not hiding," she whispered.

She tried to move away from him, but he grabbed her arm.

"Let me go," she screamed fighting back to free herself of his grip.

She was terrified but she was now also getting angry.

"I didn't mean to hurt your precious tree, so do not treat me like this!"

"No! You'll face my anger but not only for the roses," he hissed. When she didn't seem to understand he elaborated. "Every single one of my servants has been to see me this morning with a question that could only have come from you."

"I didn't tell them to…," she tried to argue.

"You are the one who wants to know who I killed!" he hissed. "I'll show you."

His grip on her arm was hurting her, but he didn’t loosen it. Instead he dragged her kicking and screaming over to a painting on the wall. The painting showed a handsome boy with jet black hair and pale skin. His eyes were dark and piercing. The boy was surrounded by a man and a woman on each side of him. The woman had her hand on his shoulder but the man stood a little away from them as if he was trying to distance himself as much as possible.

"My father," the Monster hissed and pointed to the man.

A feeling of dread settled in her stomach. She was fighting to get out of his grip. She was scared of what was coming.

"Do you understand?" he was staring at her with cold hard eyes, and could clearly see her fear and alarm. "I killed my own family. My father and his parents; all dead within a single evening."

Finally he released her arm and she jumped backwards trying to get away from him, but she tripped and fell to the ground. She looked up at him in alarm and saw him towering before her.

"THAT is what I am; a killer!" he hissed angrily moving a step closer to her, which made her crawl further away.

"You are a heartless bastard!" she screamed at him. Her survival instinct finally set in, and she quickly moved out of his way jumping to her feet.

"Yes, I am!" the Monster yelled.

Tears were running from her eyes and with a final look at the monster, she told herself loudly; "Promise or no promise. I'm not staying here a moment longer," and she fled from the room.

She ran down corridors and stairs as fast as she could with her vision blurring due to tears refusing to stop. When she reached the entrance door she heard Plumette call her name, but she didn't stop. She just rushed through the door and ran across the grounds.

She had not before wondered what would stop her from leaving the castle grounds, but she discovered it now as she ran into an invisible barrier. As she impacted it, she was thrown backwards, but she refused to give up. Actually, she was mad that the Monster would use magic like that to keep her from escaping.

She held her hands out towards the barrier and when she felt it, she pushed with all her might. Using all her anger, frustration, alarm, and fear as fuel she pushed her way through the barrier and forced her way off the grounds.

She stopped just after the gate and looked back. The castle was looming over her in the dusk and she ran on straight into the forest. She had no plan, but only a desperate wish to get away from the Monster. She ran further and faster than ever before.

Her heart was beating hard against her ribcage and she was out of breath. She sat down on a fallen tree trunk to collect her breath and to decide on a plan. She was in the forest and the sun was getting low.

She just needed a little rest and then she would be able to go on. At least that was what she told herself. She tried not to think about the fact that she had brought no food or water, that she had forgotten to bring Philippe in her haste, and mostly she tried to not think about the animals that lived in the forest. She was for good or bad all alone and a new feeling of despair settled over her.

"I will not give up," she whispered to herself, and that was when she heard it. The howling of the wolves. She got up and looked around. She had nowhere to hide.

"Stupid, to run off without a plan," she reprimanded herself. At the same time she heard the wolves again. This time they sounded closer, much closer, and she was panicking. She looked around after something to defend herself with, and all she could find was a long stick.

She could hear the snarling of the wolves and turned to see five wolves move between the trees. The first wolf jumped at her and she swung her stick hard hitting the wolf but also breaking the stick. The wolf stayed down luckily. The second wolf jumped at the same time as the first wolf hit the ground but miraculously it jumped into a tree. It landed on the ground and did not get up again. The three other wolves circled her and two of them jumped at the same time. Again, she had luck on her side as one wolf jumped straight into the other wolf and both stayed on the ground not moving. Now only one wolf was left and when it jumped it seemed to miss a step because it ended up rolling around on the ground instead of flying in the air. Whatever had happened it had incapacitated the wolf as it also stayed down. She quickly looked over the wolves and spent a fleeting thought on what could have happened. The wolves went down too quickly, but she was still tired, and she did not wish to be near the wolves if they woke. Instead of worrying too much she ran on.

Her new path led her to a little lake. She had run straight into the water and now she was soaked from the knees down. She backed up, but then she heard the wolves again. Had they already gotten up? She moved forwards through the lake. Soon the water was to her waist. She turned back to look towards the lakeshore and saw three wolves there. They were looking at the water and at her, and she kept her eyes on the wolves as she backed away moving further out in the lake. By the time she stopped the water was to her neck. The wolves started howling but instead of pursuing her they suddenly turned back to the forest.

She waited for a long time before she tried to make her way back to the lakeshore. The wolves might be lurking and waiting for her to come out.

Unfortunately she waited too long as she felt her legs cramp. All the running had gotten the better of her, and she realized she was in even bigger danger than before. Slowly she moved towards the lakeshore, but before she had made it very far her legs gave out under her, and she felt herself sink beneath the water. She tried to stand, tried to swim, but she could not get to the air. No matter what she tried, the surface got further and further away and she could not hold her breath any longer.

Blackness filled her vision but then suddenly she saw Death. The white almost skeleton features of his face was all she could see. With a stray thought she realised his eyes were no longer cold and hard. His hand grabbed the back of her shirt, and she felt a tug as he yanked her upwards.  

When she broke the surface she took a deep and desperate breath, which caused her to start coughing. He was still holding her up, which she was grateful for. At that moment she knew she would not be able to stand on her own.

“Stupid girl,” he muttered. “Why did you go into the water? I could have protected you on land.”

She didn’t reply, but kept coughing up water.

“Get all the water out of your lungs.”

Slowly her coughing subsided and her breathing normalized. She wanted to say something, but didn’t know what. He had just saved her life, but he was a horrible Monster. She clung to his arm for support.

“Let’s go back now,” he said looking at her.

She had started to shiver in the cold water.

“Hang on tightly,” he said as he held her close to his body. “This will feel strange when you have never tried it before.”

He tightened his grip on her and she did the same. One moment she was looking at the dark surface of the lake and the next her vision blurred until suddenly she was looking at the carpet in the hall of the castle. Her stomach shifted and she felt sick. It was as if she had been ripped out of place.

“Poppy! Come quickly,” he yelled over her head before looking at her green face. “Magical travel is not pleasant the first few times, but it is fast.”

“Oh my,” Mrs Potts said looking at them. “What happened?”

“She almost drowned. I’ll take her to her room, but you need to take care of her.”

“Of course,” Mrs Potts said.

His arms tightening around her was the only warning she had before she was ripped from one place to another. This time they ended just outside her room. The door swung open easily and he carried her inside. He placed her in the bed and as the duvet flew up to cover her, she realised that though she was cold she was no longer wet. Even her hair was dry! How had that happened?

She looked at him, but he was looking at the fireplace, which suddenly flared up.

“Magic,” she whispered.

“Yes,” he acknowledged. “It is the fastest.”

Just then two women came running into the room. One was short and plump while the other was tall and thin. Both rushed to her side.

“Dear girl, how are you feeling?” the short woman asked laying her hand on Hermione’s forehead.

“Mrs Potts?” Hermione whispered before grabbing the hand on her forehead. “Is it you?”

“You see me!” Mrs Potts replied happily but quickly her demeanor changed. “You are too cold. We must have you warmed up.”

“Blankets?” the tall woman asked with Plumette’s voice.

“Yes, and warm tea,” Mrs Potts replied and Plumette ran from the room. “The fire is going strong now, so hopefully we can make sure the fever does not stick.”

Hermione looked around and noticed the Monster had left. She didn’t know how she felt about him just then, so she was grateful that she didn’t have to face him. Plumette came back with her arms full of blankets and the two women set about covering Hermione in many layers.

As Mrs Potts and Plumette fussed about her she felt safe and she allowed her mind to relax. A name she had heard had stuck in her mind.

“Poppy,” she whispered. “Is your name Poppy?”

“Yes, dear,” Mrs Potts replied. “Poppy Pomfrey Potts. Now settle down while Plumette and I take care of you.”

She decided to do just that. She considered the last few hours. The rose tree was of utmost importance to the Monster, since he had completely lost his mind over it. But still he had saved her life. Why had he done it when he had been so angry at her? As she fell asleep her mind could still not think clearly.

The fever claimed her, but it was not as bad as it could have been. Probably not even as bad as it should have been if the Monster had not used magic. She was only sick for a few days, and Mrs Potts and Plumette took good care of her. She was not happy about being stuck in bed, but it allowed her to think and to clear her mind.

She had finally been able to see the servants, and she wondered why. Something was also nagging her about Mrs Potts. There was a feeling that she was overlooking something. Maybe she didn’t know enough about the servants. She would have to question them when she was up again.

What did she know about the curse? The Monster had admitted to killing his father and grandparents, but had not mentioned his mother. What had happened to the her? Had she died before or after the killings? The curse was a punishment for the killings, but from where had it come? The curse affected the Monster, and due to the curse an enchantment affected the castle, and all the servants. Did the curse or the enchantment affect Hermione and was that the reason she could see the servants now? What did the curse actually do? The servants all seemed like they had been here from before the curse though they didn't actually remember much. Was that because of the enchantment or because of the time that had passed since the curse? When was the curse even cast? The rose tree was somehow able to grew though nothing else had changed. All her questions just confused her more.

She thought back to when the Monster pulled her from the water. What did it actually mean that he had saved her life? She was grateful to be alive, of course she was, but she didn't owe him anything, right? He had deliberately acted in a way that would scare her, so he had pushed her to run, but then he had also jumped into the water after her. That led to the question of how he had known she needed to be saved. He must have somehow been observing her, yet he hadn't stopped her from running. Then she thought of the wolves and how strange they had acted, how easily they had gone down, and wondered if he had helped her even there.

That begged the question of why; why he had acted and why she cared. She knew why she cared; she needed confirmation that he was the monster she believed, she needed to know the servants were wrong when believing in him, and she needed to know that there was not one bit of goodness hiding in him, because if there was then maybe she had been mistaken about him.

…

It took four days before Hermione was finally able to convince Mrs Potts that she was well enough to rise from the bed. Mrs Potts had wanted her to stay a few days longer, but Hermione was tired of being confined to the bed. In the end she was allowed to go to the library, if she promised to not overtax herself. She promised and she knew just what to do. She would spend her time slowly looking over the books and maybe settle down at the couch near the window to read.

When looking over the books she was searching for something specific; a book about magic. She had finally accepted that magic was real, and that it might just have saved her life. She wanted to know more, but the only book that seemed to be about magic was the Book of Abramelin the Mage by Abraham of Worms. It was not the kind of magic she was looking for, so she ended up putting it back and finding a copy of The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer instead. That was more to her taste though it did not help her much in her quest for information about magic. Half way through the book she heard someone come into the library.

“I don’t trust you,” the Monster said out of the blue.

“I don’t trust you either,” she said and looked up from her book to stare at him. He was standing in the middle of the library.

“It has come to my attention that I have a bad temper,” he said completely ignoring her comment. "And apparently I lash out on you."

“That is correct,” she replied.

“Lumiere, Cogsworth," the Monster called while turning to face the door behind him, "was that enough?"

"You are supposed to apologize, sir!" Cogsworth said.

“Isn’t that what I just did?”

“No,” Cogsworth replied. Cogsworth was correcting the Monster. Had the world turned upside down? She sat up straight and put her book down. Whatever was happening looked to be interesting.

“You need to include the phrase _I'm sorry_ ", Lumiere added.

“But what if I'm not sorry? I'm not sorry for getting angry when she so clearly was hiding something, and then she goes out of her way to destroy my roses, and finally she tried to turn _my_ servants into her informants! How am I supposed to not get angry over that?” he hissed at them.

“You could just have pretended,” Cogsworth said sourly.

“What do you want?” Hermione had risen from the couch and had moved closer. At her comment the Monster turned back to face her. His eyes were not as cold and hard as earlier, but neither were they friendly or welcoming.

“They demand that I apologize to you,” he admitted indicating the two servants behind him.

“I don’t want an apology that you do not wish to give.”

“Then what?”

“Answer some questions, will you?” she asked. He looked suspicious but nodded. “What did you do to the wolves?”

“Confused and stunned the first group, and confused the other,” he replied.

“Why?”

“Because you are a stupid girl, who ran straight into danger,” he hissed. “I know you ran because of me and I am not ready to add your death to my sentencing.” Something didn't seem quite right with that comment with the way his eyes looked anywhere but at her, and for a monster who always kept eye contact it was just strange, so she asked a different question.

“Who would punish you?” she asked. He didn’t reply, but just stared at her in defiance. “You are lying to me!”

“Fine,” he admitted. “Your death would not add anything to my punishment except having the servants angry at me.”

“You were protecting me,” she acknowledged and he didn’t contradict her. “What would you have done if I had not run into the water?”

“Nothing,” he hissed.

“Would you have protected me until I thought myself safe and then dragged me back to the castle?”

“I was going to let you get safely out of the damned forest and send that bloody horse after you,” he admitted. “Then I would protect the castle and all who lives here so that others like you and your father would never find us.”

“Would you really have let me go?” she pressed not believing him.

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you,” she admitted. “Why would you do that?”

“To protect my people,” he said waving his arms about indicating Lumiere and Cogsworth, who were still observing them.

“The servants? You want to protect them from what?”

“From others who might not leave an enchanted castle alone.”

“You care about them,” she said. It wasn't a question. She knew the answer already, but she still voiced her comment.

He cared about the safety of the servants, and that showed her that there was at least a speck of goodness inside him. She considered all the times the servants argued with her that their master was not a monster. Maybe, just maybe there was more to him than she had seen. She decided to trust her new friends and their belief that he was not a monster, but that did not mean she would trust him or forgive him.

“I apologize for hiding the truth about my investigation. I also apologize for doing experiments on the rose tree. I do not however apologize for turning your servants into my informants as you so put it, for that was their own idea and I did not ask that of them,” she said very clearly keeping eye contact with him and he seemed surprised. “I do want an apology from you, but I want a sincere one so I can wait until you can give it.”

“I…,” the Monster seemed lost for words.

“That is how you apologize,” Lumiere whispered to Cogsworth, who nodded in agreement.

“I will honor my promise to stay here and I will make an effort to not hide my actions from you if you in turn promise to make an effort to be civil to me and not lash out before you know what is going on," she said.

“I can agree to that,” he said. “I will endeavor to listen before jumping to conclusions.”

“That is all I am asking for,” she replied.

“Splendid! Just splendid,” Cogsworth exclaimed. “Maybe now the castle can get back some peace and quiet…”

“What my friend means,” Lumiere said cutting Cogsworth off, “is that now we can all be friends and work together and not against each other.”

“Right,” Hermione said moving towards Lumiere. “Now we can really start to work on breaking the curse.”

“The curse can't be broken,” the Monster said.

“There must be some way,” Hermione said full of optimism.

“Are you arguing with me over the curse?” he asked surprised.

“No, just expressing a different opinion than you,” she said.

“It feels a lot like arguing,” he grumbled.


	3. Friends

Hermione really wanted to discuss the curse with the Monster, but apparently he was busy with something or other, so instead she sat down with the servants to try and figure out what they remembered from before the curse. Plumette remembered her middle name was Padma, but she was not sure of her family name. She could also remember a sister, but the name was lost to her. Mrs Potts was able to remember a husband and his name, Frank Bryce Potts. He had been a gardener at the castle, but he had died before the curse was cast. Lumiere could remember a cousin called Fergus, and he was certain Lumiere was a nickname Fergus has provided.

“In my youth, I had a habit of setting things on fire,” Lumiere admitted. “That was why Fergus called me Lumiere as a jest.”

However, he could not remember his given name. Cogsworth could remember only sporadic memories of his parents and the rest of the servants even less.

Hermione was asking questions and writing notes when the Monster came in. As one all the servants rose and greeted him. Hermione stayed seated and eyed him curiously.

“You,” the Monster pointed at Hermione, “come with me.”

“Why?” she asked remaining seated. He could have asked nicely, she thought.

“You agreed to comply when I required your assistance, so come with me now.”

“I agreed to help, yes,” she replied slowly rising, “but I said nothing about not asking questions.”

“I don’t like your questions, so stop it,” he said considering the servants.

“Is that a demand or a friendly suggestion?”

“Would you comply if I said it was a command?”

“Probably not,” she admitted and by that time they left the kitchen together.

The servants had been rapidly following the exchange between their master and their new friend and they were wondering why those two could not get along.

The Monster led Hermione along a corridor and down a flight of stairs.

“Before I make assumptions, explain yourself: what are you plotting with my servants this time?”

“Nothing,” she replied frowning.

“Then why were you all together making plans just now?”

“Oh, we aren’t planning anything,” she answered smiling. “We were discussing their memories from before the curse.”

“They can’t remember anything.”

“Sure they can.”

“The enchantment removed their memories.”

“Then the enchantment must be weakening.”

“Explain.”

“Plumette remembered a sister that she had not seen since before the curse. Mrs Potts could remember a husband called Frank, who had died…”

“It cannot be true,” he murmured cutting Hermione off.

“Whyever not?”

“I told you already that the curse is my punishment. Therefore I can remember why the curse was cast and the time before it. The servants cannot because they are under an enchantment. If the curse was weakening I would feel it since it is linked to me.”

“And to the rose tree?” she asked.

He didn’t reply, but he made a sound she took as confirmation.

They walked on in silence, but before long she spoke up again.

“Where are we going?”

“To my laboratory.”

“You have a laboratory?” she asked surprised. “Why?”

He looked at her as if she was stupid before he replied, “so as to safely conduct magical experiments.”

“What kind of experiments?”

“It changes,” he replied before grabbing her wrist and ominously adding, “but today I am doing experiments on you.”

“What!” she cried in outrage and stopped walking. “Let me go!”

“No,” and he just dragged her after him.

“Let go, you Monster!”

“It won't hurt,” he said. “I just need to assess your magical potential.”

“My what?” he asked surprised.

“How strong your magic is,” he clarified.

“Oh? How are you going to do that?” she asked now becoming quite intrigued by the idea of magic.

“By having you perform magic of course.”

“Really?” she asked with a big smile. Her excitement seemed to surprised him and he looked at her with narrowed eyes. His hand was still grabbing her wrist though she had long since stopped fighting. “How do you even know I can do magic?”

“I would never have permitted you to stay otherwise,” he replied.

She thought back to the meeting in the basement. “The strange wind?”

“Of course,” he agreed, “but then you didn’t show any talent for magic and I was just about ready to give up on you when you punched your way through my ward.”

“Your what?”

“Ward. A magical barrier protecting the castle from intruders, and as you can imagine it was placed after you and your father decided to waltz in and destroy my garden.”

“Oh, the invisible wall! I thought it was something to keep me from leaving the grounds,” she admitted. “It made me mad.”

“Why would I make a ward to keep you here? You and your damned questions have made my life even more difficult since the moment you arrived.”

“Then let me go,” she said hopefully.

“Here we are,” he said instead of replying.

He opened a door to a dark room, but the lights turned on as they entered.

“I love it when the lights do that!” she exclaimed.

“Turn on?”

“Yes, but in that I-know-what-you-are-looking-for way.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, when the lights know your way and you can just follow them.”

“They lights don’t work like that,” he said looking at her. “They turn on only in the area you are located. They don’t show you the way.”

“But they do,” she argued. “Do you even know your own castle?”

“Hmm”, he replied noncommittally. “Sit down and touch NOTHING!”

He went to a cupboard and opened a drawer. From it he retrieved a handful of sticks, which he placed in front of her.

“What’s that?”

“Wands. Try them and find one that works.”

“Why? You don’t use a wand,” she said while looking over the sticks. To her they all looked the same.

“I don’t have to. I can perform wandless magic, but you are unfamiliar with magic and need the help a wand can provide.”

“So what do I do?”

“Pick one up, wave it and see what happens.”

She did as he said, but nothing happened when she swung the first one, so he told her to try another. The same happened two more times, but when she picked up the fourth wand a warm feeling spread through her body and when she swung it, sparkles erupted from the tip.

“This one feels friendly,” she said.

“Curious.”

“What’s curious?”

“These wands are all pre-used. It is rare to see a wand connect so well with a new owner.”

“Whose wand was this?”

“The last person to wield that wand was my mother.”

“Oh, should I try another wand instead then?”

“No, keep it. She’s not going to need it anymore.”

“Why? What happened to her?”

“She killed herself,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Jumped from the tower.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. She was a weak woman,” he said without emotion, “but she was a strong witch. Now let’s see what you can do with a wand. The wand will help you channel your magic, but it is not the most important part of casting spells. Intent is.”

“Intent?”

“Yes, intent is how you broke through my ward. You didn’t use a wand, but you were able to channel your magic due to your intent.”

“So the strength of my wish will help the magic make it happen?”

“No, wishing in itself is not enough. Wishing can make magic happen, but it does not work all the time and the results might not be what you are wishing for. That type of magic is more accidental, but if you can channel your magic and focus your intent, you can learn to control magic and make it obey you.”

“Control and obey? Those are not words I like to hear.”

“If you cannot face the truth, then imagine I said that _you can work magic and make it do as you wish_ ,” he huffed. “Now the wand will help with channeling your magic, but you must learn to focus your intent by yourself.”

They spent the next few hours going over the basic principles of magic, and under his tutelage she was able to cast a few spells with the wand. She was most impressed by the Wand-Lighting Charm since she could use that to read books in bed at night.

He even provided her with books to read about magic, and she was pleasantly surprised to find the books a vast improvement to the book she had found in the library. These books explained magic, what different spells did, and also how to cast spells.

“Study these books wisely, but do not practise anywhere except in here,” he warned.

“Why?”

“You are still very new to magic and I will not have you make mistakes, which might harm some of my servants, start a fire, or destroy half the castle. The laboratory is protected so any mistakes you make here, will not be able to spread beyond.”

...

Over the next many days she immersed herself in reading the books and practicing the spells. She found it easiest to work in the laboratory since she could read and practise at the same time. The only sore spot about the laboratory was that the Monster was usually there too. Luckily, he was working in a different area. She would greet him with a smile, while he would acknowledged her with a nod.

Around lunchtime a little bell would ring, and she would look up surprised to see Mrs Potts and Plumette bringing lunch. Her excitement about learning magic often made her forget the time. She would eat lunch with the Monster, but they rarely spoke. For dinner she would eat with the servants and they would talk for hours. She felt bad for not spending more time investigating the curse, but the servants didn’t complain and she really enjoyed learning magic.

One day she kept eyeing him as he was working. He had a caldron sitting over fire and he chopped, grinded, and cut things before he threw them into the caldron. She didn’t know what he was doing, but that was not what was bothering her.

“What it is?” he snapped suddenly. “You have been staring at me for hours and it’s getting on my nerves. Ask your questions.”

“It’s just that I read about this spell,” she admitted, “but it is not working when I try to cast it. Could you help me?”

His expression softened extremely at her plea for help and he came over to her.

“Show me,” he requested and she did. He watched her progress and quickly discovered the problem. “You should only stress the first syllable. Here, listen to me _‘AH-gwa-men-ti’_ ”.

That marked the day when she began to ask him for help about magic and how to cast the spells. He would often suggest small changes, which made the casting easier and better.

“Loosen your hold on the wand,” he said one day when she was grabbing the wand so tightly her knuckles turned white. And another day he would suggest, “less swish, more flick.”

A few days later she found she could not concentrate, so she put her book down and went over to his corner of the laboratory to see what he was working on.

“What are you doing?” she asked trying to peek into the caldron.

“I’m brewing a potion,” he replied while plucking leaves of a small plant.

“What kind of potion?”

“An important one,” he replied vaguely with a wry smile.

“Was that a joke?” she asked. “Did you just make a joke?”

“If you cannot tell, then I would hate to admit to it.”

“Can I help making potions?”

“Brewing,” he corrected. “It’s called brewing potions.”

“Oh, can I help brewing potions then?”

“Do you know anything about potions?”

“No.”

“Do you know anything about cooking?”

“No,” she admitted.

“So how do you expect to be able to help me?”

“Can’t you teach me?”

“I could, but why should I?”

“Because then I would be able to help you with brewing potions,” she tried to argue. He actually smiled at that.

“Fine,” he said giving in. He held the plant up for her to see. “This is dittany. It’s a very special plant. Are you familiar with it?”

“No.”

“The leaves are used in healing potions.” He plucked a few more leaves from the plant.

“Is that what you are making?”

“Brewing…,” he sighed, “but yes. I am brewing a healing potion called the Essence of Dittany.”

“What does it do?”

“There is a book in the library called Enquiry into Plants. In it you can discover more information about dittany and other magical plants used in potions.”

“Enquire into Plants,” she repeated to be certain and he nodded his agreement.

“Before you joined me I brewed the base of the potion,” he nodded to the caldron. In it she could see a yellow substance. “The base is stable and can be kept for days, but once I start the next phase I have to be quick as to not ruin the potion.  For the second phase I need the dittany leaves, salamander blood, honeywater, and pickled Murtlap tentacles.” As he said the names he pointed to different vials and containers on the table. He kept explaining what he was doing, but he would not let her touch any of the ingredients.

After adding the salamander blood to the base and letting the dittany leaves soak in it, he had to let the potion settle for half an hour before the next addition. He spend the pause explaining why the Murtlap tentacles had to be chopped before being added, and she asked what a Murtlap even was.

Later the same evening as she lay in bed, she considered the day. She was surprised by how much time he had spent explaining the potion and the ingredients to her. After the first potion was finished he bottled it, and then he help set up a workstation next to his. As he was starting the base of another potion, she could follow along and make the base herself. If she was successful, which she was, she could finish the potion the next day under his guidance. She was so excited to be able to make a potion. No, brew a potion! A real magical potion! She didn’t actually care which potion it was, just the fact that she would be able to brew and finish it. The potion was called Blood-Replenishing Potion and she had been reading up on it. It was a truly amazing potion that could help the drinker gain normal blood levels even after severe blood loss.

...

The castle relaxed into a new routine with Hermione spending her mornings practicing spells, helping the Monster with potions in the afternoons, before finally spending her evenings in the library reading. The Monster would often help her with the spells and he was often also to be found in the library in the evenings.

“What are you looking for?” she asked one evening as he was looking through multiple books. “Maybe I can help?”

“Maybe you can,” he acknowledged. “I need to figure out how to cast a protective barrier or ward that will not be linked to the caster.”

“How about using multiple casters? Then it would not be linked to anyone in particular.”

“Ultimately it would not work because when all the casters are dead the barrier would fall. I need something that can last centuries.”

“Can it be linked to the ground?”

Unfortunately not, the ground would change too much over time. I would link it to something more constant like the castle, but that is too big.”

“So something constant but small?” she asked.

“Exactly,” he said. “Something like…” he cut himself off, while his mind was formulating a new idea.

Hermione was watching him as he thought over his idea. From the way his forehead furrowed and his eyes not really watching the world around him, she knew he was thinking, but when a quirky smile started to form at his mouth she knew he had figured it out.

“What did you discover,” she asked.

His eyes were glowing with excitement when he turned to face her. “So, the castle is too big, right? But the foundation is as constant as the castle, so linking the barrier to different stones in the fondation could work. The stones are small enough to carry the link and the foundation is constant enough to last many lifetimes,” he exclaimed excitedly, before adding “however, it’s not something I am familiar with casting, so I need to study some more.”

“Let me know if you need my help,” she volunteered.

“Thank you,” he said. “First I will perform some experiments on my own, but I might require your help later on.”

“Alright,” she agreed and went back to her book.

...

As she was standing with her head over a cauldron working on a potion, she began to question the work.

“I read potions can be used for pretty much everything, but we are only making healing potions. Why is that?”

“We are making sure the castle has enough potions to last many years,” he said, “and healing and medical potions are the most important.”

“Why so many though?” she pressed. “Can’t we just make a new batch in half a year?”

“I don’t expect that to be possibly, so we have to make as many as we can now.”

“But why not? I don’t understand.”

“I will not go into details now. Please, just trust me on this.”

“Alright, if you say so,” she agreed, but her mind was racing. What could possibly happen to cause him to not be able to make potions again? She had a bad feeling, but she couldn’t place it.

“I want to teach you a spell,” he said interrupting her thoughts.

“What kind of spell,” she asked even though she knew he only suggested it to make her forget their previous conversation.

“It is called the Patronus Charm,” he said. “It is a very difficult spell, but it is a strong defensive charm.”

“Oh?” she asked fascinated.

“It conures a Patronus, which is a force of positive energy.”

“How does it work?”

“It was solely used against dark magical creatures called Dementors, but it also works against wolves.”

“Wolves?”

“At least the wolves in this forest. The entire forest is magical and so is every animal in it, which is why they are affected by the charm.”

“Do you think I can really learn it?” she asked completely forgetting their previous conversation for the time being.

“Yes, I know you can.”

“I suppose it would be a good spell to know then,” she admitted. “The Patronus Charm, you said? I will read up on it later.”

“Draw your wand and do as I say,” he commanded. “Think of your most happy memory. It has to be a most joyous and delightful recollection. Do you have a memory in mind?”

She nodded in affirmation. She thought of her eighth year birthday when her mother and father had celebrated with her, and they had had such a wonderful day.

“Good, now draw circles with your wand like this,” he showed the wrist movement for her to copy. “The incantation is _Expecto Patronum._ Remember to concentrate.”

She tried to copy him, but the spell failed her time and time again. The best she got was some silver smoke in the last few attempts.

“Can’t you show me what it is supposed to look like?” she whined.

“I can show you the movements, but only those pure of heart can cast it,” he admitted. “You are doing very well. Even the silver mist is an incredible feat on your first day. The spell is difficult to learn, but don’t give up.”

She read about the spell that same night; ‘ _The Patronus Charm is the most difficult defensive charm. The aim is to produce a silvery-white guardian or protector, which takes the form of an animal. The exact form of the Patronus will not be apparent until the spell has been successfully cast. One of the most powerful defensive charms known to wizardkind, the Patronus can also be used as a messenger between wizards.’_

Over the next week she focused mostly on learning that spell, and finally one day a bright white and translucent otter appeared in front of her instead of the mist. She looked at the otter with a bright smile and it looked back at her with calm eyes as if awaiting a command.

...

“Em, I feel like I probably should have asked this before,” she started, “but it just never seemed that important until now.”

He waited for her to ask her question, but he looked at her curiously.

“What’s your name?”

“My name?” he laughed. “That is your important question?”

“Yeah,” she admitted.

“My name is Tom.”

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Tom,” she said offering her hand in greeting.

He reached across the table and shook her hand with a smile. “Likewise, Hermione.”

...

Hermione was eating breakfast in the kitchen with Mrs Potts and some of the other servants, when Tom came into the kitchen.

“Here you are,” he said. “I was looking for you.”

“So early?” she asked putting her bread down.

“Is it too early?

“Can you give me five minutes to finish?”

“Of course, when you are done could you meet me outside?”

“Sure, I’m practically done now, so I’ll just clean up and then I’ll be there.”

“I can clean up, dear,” Mrs Potts said.

“No, you don’t have to. It’s not a problem for me,” Hermine argued.

“I’m sure,” Mrs Potts pressed. “You run along now.”

“Thanks,” Hermione called and got up.

“Thank you, Poppy,” Tom said.

They left the kitchen together, but they didn’t hear the servants whispering behind their backs. “Finally, they seem to respect each other.”

“What are we doing today?” Hermione asked as they walked outside.

“I want to cast a ward on the castle and I need your help.”

“Alright, so what exactly are we doing?”

“We are trying to link a ward to specific stones in the foundation.”

“And what will the ward do?”

“It should effectively hide the castle from strangers.”

“You mean like making it invisible?”

“Yes.”

“But wouldn’t people just walk into a magical barrier and know something was wrong?”

“I would also be adding a charm that repels anyone who has not already seen the castle.”

“So no one from outside would ever find the castle.”

“That is the general idea, but I need it linked to the castle and not to me.”

“Why not having it linked to you?”

“Because I want it to last centuries.”

They spend all of that day working together outside. First, they marked the best stones in the foundation, but the work dragged on. Often they had to go back and select new stones, when the properties were not good enough, because apart from being able to hold the magic for generations the stones also had to be placed evenly around the ground.

“We need six stones regularly placed around the grounds,” Tom had said.

“Why six?”

“A higher number makes it more enduring, while a smaller number makes it flexible and stable. Six is the optimal number.”

After finally decided on the six stones needed they called it a day and went inside for dinner. As they were eating Hermione decided to ask a question that had been on her mind for a while.

“Tom? I was wondering; why are you teaching me magic?”

“Ah, because you have a magical talent,” he replied, but she pressed for a better answer. “It’s quiet atypical for wizards to break through a ward as quickly as you. Also your way of getting through intrigued me. Usually someone would dissemble the wards, but you just forced your way through. It is quite fascinating,” he said. “And I’m beginning to think your magic is fusing into the castle and those who live here.”

“It can do that?”

“I believe so,” he admitted. “Have you not noticed how the servants you spend the most time with are the ones who remember their past the most?”

“No, I didn’t consider it. Does it mean my magic is weird?”

“No, but it means your magic is strong and being in the magical environment that the castle is, your magic is awakening.”

“Is sounds dangerous!”

“If you stop using your magic it might be dangerous now that it is awake.”

“So I need to keep using magic forever?”

“Yes, that is the price to pay.”

“I think I can do that,” she smiled, “but am I a danger to the others? I mean if my magic is spreading to them?”

“No, I actually think your magic is working against the enchantment.”

“Against the curse?”

“Not the curse, no. I would be able to feel that, but my servants were not cursed. They are suffering under an enchantment due to the curse.”

“I thought the curse and the enchantment was the same thing,” she admitted.

“They are not. The curse was cast on me and only me, but the enchantment was placed on top and it is linked to the curse. The enchantment hides the servants by magic and makes them forget their pasts. It is to force them to remain here forever. If the curse breaks so those the enchantment, but the enchantment is affecting everyone who lived here when it was placed. Breaking the enchantment will not affect the curse, but it will free my servants from their suffering.”

“It sounds complicated,” she said.

“To express it simply; your magic is weakening the enchantment, which can help my servants. Your magic is not affecting the curse, which is linked to me.”

“How can it affect the enchantment?”

“I am not quite sure, but I think your mere presence is weakening the enchantment.”

...

The next day they met early to cast the ward spells. Thy would have to cast it from every one of the marked stones.

“I need you to hold the ward while I cast,” he said. “Because it covers such a large area and since it has not just one linkage then each of the stones will not be able to support the ward alone. Until all the stones are connected the spell will fall apart. I need you to act as a locus for the spell until all the stones are connected to it.”

“How?”

“Just stand here,” he pointed next to the first stone. “I will start and end here. I will cast the spell and link it to you. Then I will connect the stone. Once that is working, I will move to the next stone and connect that until I am back here again. Finally, I will release you from the spell and the stones should be able to support the ward by themselves.”

“I don’t really understand it, but I trust you.”

“When I link the spell to you, just focus on holding it. That is all.”

“Alright, I am ready.”

“Close your eyes,” he said and she complied. “I’ll start now.”

He took a deep breath before putting a hand on her shoulder.

“ _Invisibilia castra,”_ he chanted.

She could feel the magic respond, but she was unable to say if it was her own magic responding to the magic around her or if the magic of the spell was able to affect her so much.

“ _Validus sit magicae,_ ” he then said and the magic grew even stronger around her. " _Coniunctum illa_ ," and she could feel the magic settle in and around her.

This time there was no question about; her magic was responding and she felt giddy with all the magic flowing around her and through her. She moved her arm and felt the magic follow her movement.

"Be still," he whispered and she stopped moving. " _Lapidem coniungere_!"

It felt like someone was holding her hand and the magic settled between them stronger than when she was holding it on her own. She basked in the glory of the combined magic.

"You and the stone are connected. I'll continue on. Just focus on the magic and be still."

She registered his voice, but she didn't respond. She focused on the magic and on the words he had spoken. Invisible castle, she thought and felt the magic respond by twirling around her.

After a little while she felt that strange but pleasant feeling of someone grabbing her hand and sharing the magic, and she knew another stone was now supporting the magic also. Six times she felt a stone connect, and she knew the next step was to disconnect her from the spell.

The magic felt different now, but it was probably just because it was fully connected to all the stones. She felt a hand on her shoulder. The hand oozed of magic.

" _Seiungo_ ," he said and she felt the magic respond. But something was wrong. Before the magic had felt good and almost playful, but now it felt like something was ripping the magic in two around her and she felt a surge of magical backlash like a whip. It hit her straight on and she was flung backwards unconscious.

…

When she came around she found she was lying on a couch in the library. On the table next to her was a teapot and cup and she smiled when she saw it. Slowly she sat up properly and looked around. Tom was sitting at a nearby desk reading, but he came over to her when he noticed she had woken.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I was hit by a rampant carriage,” she admitted. “What happened?”

“It was my mistake,” he said. “I hadn't realized that when connecting the sixth stone the magic would be unstable. The connection was meant for six links, but I forgot to consider the seventh link, you. With seven links the magic would automatically disconnect the weakest link, but all the links were equally strong; until I started to disconnect you, that is. Then the magic backfired and threw you from the connection as the weakest link.”

“Oh,” she said. “How did you figure it out?”

“I consulted a few books,” he replied. “I'm terribly sorry.”

“Don't be. It was an accident,” she said. “Did the ward hold?”

“Yes, the ward is in place,” he said smiling.

“That is good.”

“Hermione, I should have said this a long time ago. I apologize for the way I behaved when you first came to the castle and for believing the worst of you and therefore trying to scare you.”

...

As she lay in her bed that night she was considering how much her life had changed. When she entered into the agreement with Tom she had not imagined actually becoming friends with him, and that was what they were. She felt confident that he also considered them friends. He even answered all her many questions whether they were about spells, potions, or more mundane things like his name. There was such a big contrast between the man he was now and the monster that had locked up her father. That got her thinking about her father. Oh, how she missed him! She hoped he was fine and living a happy life. How she wished she could see him just once more or just hear how he was doing. If only she could communicate with him. Hadn’t she read something about the Patronus Charm working as a messenger?

If she remembered correctly the Charm had two purposes; protection and communication. The Patronus could bring messages, could it also bring back messages? Could she ask it to bring a message to her father and then bring back a reply or would he not be able to see it since he was non-magical? Maybe she should ask Tom for advice in the morning before she sent the Otter out. He might have a few ideas.

When she entered the laboratory the next morning he was already working on potions. He looked up and smiled when she entered.

“Tom, I have been thinking,” she said.

“That is a dangerous pastime,” he teased.

“Is it possible to send a Patronus with a message for a non-magical person and then have it bring back a message.”

“Your father?” he asked and she nodded. “It's not something I have ever heard of, but then again I haven't been able to cast a Patronus in many years, so I haven't experimented with it personally,” he admitted.

“What do you think?”

“Truthfully, I don't believe it is possible. There are quite a few challenges to it like would your father even be able to perceive your Patronus? Would he be able to hear the message you sent? Would he even know how to override the message you gave the Patronus to deliver or would it just bring back your own message?”

“So there is nothing to be done?” she asked crushed.

“I wouldn't say that. The Patronus can still observe.”

“How does that help me?”

“You can ask the Patronus questions.”

“And it will reply?” she asked happily.

“I'm afraid it can't reply. The only voice the Patronus has is the message the caster gives it.”

“Then what?”

“Yes-no questions,” he suggested. “Require no voice.”

“Oh, I think I get it,” she said as she realized the merit of his suggestion. “But will it work?”

“I'm not sure. Why don't you try it here in the castle?”

“Good idea,” she replied and cast the spell.

The otter sprang forth and she sent it to the kitchen. It came back after a while and looked at her. It did not speak, so she asked it questions instead to which it would nod or shake its head as answer.

“Is anyone in the kitchen right now?”

Nod.

“Who?”

No movement from the otter.

“Sorry, not clear enough. Is Mrs. Potts in the kitchen?”

Shake.

“Plumette?”

Shake.

“Lumiere?”

Shake.

“Cogsworth?”

Shake.

“This is not really working. If I send it to my father then I need to be better at asking questions,” she said before cancelling the spell.

“Now you know it can be achieved,” he said. “It is a start.”

“I just need to figure out how to ask the proper questions,” she said and he nodded. She wanted to know that her father was doing well without her.

When she was finally ready to send the Patronus to her father, she felt giddy. She would learn of how he was doing! She sent the otter on its way and waited anxiously for it to return. Tom tried to keep her mind busy by asking her questions, but she could not concentrate and by the time the otter arrived back they were both glad to see it.

“Did you find my father?”

Nod.

“Is he at home?”

Nod.

“Is he well?”

Shake.

“What?” she asked shocked. “Is he sick?”

Nod.

“Is he very sick?”

Nod. She stared in alarm at the otter. How could she ask what was wrong?

“Is he dying?”

Nothing; the otter just looked at her.

“You don't know?”

Nod.

“But, but…,” she started shocked. “What is wrong with him?” she asked the otter her voice rising in panic.

“Hermione,” Tom said coming around the table. “You need to calm down or you will lose your control over the charm.”

“But my father is sick! He might be dying!” she cried turning to Tom.

As her focus shifted from the otter to Tom the charm failed and the otter disappeared. She didn't seem to notice however as her focus was on Tom.

“What is wrong with Father?”

“I don't know,” he admitted putting an arm around her shoulders. She borrowed her face into his chest.

She didn’t speak to him, but he could feel her body trembling in his arms. As he watched her he could see tears falling down her cheeks, and he knew there was only one thing he could do for her.

“Hermione, listen to me,” he started. He gently lifted her head so she looked at him. “Go to your room, pack your belongings, and go home.”

“What?” she asked uncertain.

“I will pack a bag of different healing potions for you. When you see your father, help him get better, and live your life with him.”

“Are you letting me go?” she asked convinced she must have misunderstood.

“Yes.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, “for understanding how much he needs me.”

Quickly she ran from the room. She didn’t have many things with her when she arrived, so she packed quickly. When she made it to the entrance door he was waiting for her. He presented her with a bag full of carefully wrapped vials.

“I hope you will find something to help your father,” he said. “The rest you can use as you see fit.”

“Thank you,” she said while taking the bag.

“Your horse is ready for you.”

“Thank you,” she repeated.

“Have a wonderful life, Hermione,” he said and opened the door for her.

“Thank you for everything,” she said before she walked out the door. Philippe was waiting just outside. After tying the bag to the saddle, she jumped on and set out. She glanced backwards once to see Tom sanding in the door.

This time the magical barrier did not stop her from leaving.

Tom kept looking in the direction she had left long efter she was gone from view.

“Master?” Mrs Potts called. “Will you and Hermione be having lunch in the laboratory today?”

“Hermione left,” he said, “and she is not coming back.”

“You let her go?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “I had to.”

“Why?”

“She was never mine to keep.”

“You are in love with her, aren't you?”

“How could I possibly love her when I am heartless monster?” he asked curiously finally looking at Mrs Potts.

“I don’t know how,” she admitted, “but it is written all over your face. You love her and therefore you set her free. Maybe you are hoping she comes back of her own free will?”

“I would never dare to wish for such fanciful dreams,” he said, “and it will not matter anyway; I will be dead before she has a chance to remember me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The explanation of the Patronus Charm is a direct quote from Pottermore


	4. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! This chapter deals with a broken family and violence. It is not very graphic, but I will give a warning anyway.

Hermione didn’t know the way out of the forest, but that was no problem, as apparently Philippe knew. He galloped fast through the overgrown forest floor as if he had just a single goal in mind. She didn’t complain, but just hung on with all her might. If she fell then, she was unsure if Philippe would stop.

The sun was still high on the sky when they broke out of the forest. Her home, the little cottage, stood like a beacon calling to her. As soon as she arrived, she jumped off Philippe and rushed inside the house. She didn’t consider to lead Philippe to the stables or even to remove the saddle. She only grabbed the bag with the potions before she left the horse without a backward glance.

“Father,” she called throwing open the front door. She heard movement from the bedroom, and ran to the door, but as she was about to open it, the door was opened from the other side. A strange young man was there. “Who are you?” she asked in surprise taking a step back. “Where’s my father? What have you done to him?” her voice was rising a bit as she tried to make sense of the presence of this man.

“Hermione?” a very weak and raspy voice called from within the bedroom, “is that you?”

“Father?” she called again and quickly pushed past the man. Luckily he didn’t try to stop her.

Mr Granger was lying on the bed; he looked ashen, his skin was grimy, his hair was sticking to his skin, and his eyes looked dull. She sat down on the bed next to him and clasped his hands. “Father!”

“Hermione, my daughter,” he whispered looking at her fondly. “Are you really here?”

“Yes, Father,” Hermione smiled before she leaned in and kissed his forehead. “I have returned home to take care of you.”

“I am so very glad to see you, my dear,” he whispered smiling at her. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Father,” she smiled, “but what happened to you?”

“That monster threw me inside a carriage and sent me home. I tried to jump out on the way, so as to return to you to help you, but the doors were locked and would not open until I was back here. Then I went straight into the forest to return to the castle. I brought all the riches from the city in an attempt to bargain with the beast, but I could not find the castle.”

“Oh, Father,” she whispered and caresses his cheek. “How did you find your way out of the forest again?”

“I didn’t,” he admitted sadly. “Draco found me and helped me home. Without him, I would still be wandering even now.”

“Who is Draco?” she asked confused.

“I am,” the strange man from before suddenly said. She turned to look at him as he was standing in the door to the bedroom, and looked at her with a challenge in his eyes.

Slowly, Hermione rose from the bed and walked to Draco. As she was looking at him more closely, she noticed that he was not much older than she was. He had the pale skin of the North and white-blond hair. She promised herself to be nice to him, since he had helped her father. “I am Hermione,” she smiled holding out her hand to him. “Thank you for taking care of my father when I was unable to help him.”

He looked at her hand for a few moments before he grabbed it. “Think nothing of it.”

“Have you been taking care of him all this time?” she asked, before quickly adding, “he cannot pay you for your time, we have no money.”

“I am not staying for the money,” Draco replied affronted. “You think I would leave him by himself, when he is sick!”

“I’m sorry, it’s just so overwhelming,” she admitted. “These past days - weeks - months, I hardly know anymore, have been strange.”

“Weeks or months would be the right term. You been gone for more than two months.”

“How do you know?”

“When your father came back from the castle, he went to Widow Smith’s to ask for help to free you,” Draco told her. “While you were doing who-knows-what in that castle your father was trying to raise an army to free you.”

“Why didn’t anyone help him?”

“They didn’t believe him, of course,” Draco said as if it was the most obvious answer, which she had to admit it kind of was. “There have been rumors of beasts in the forest for generations, but no one believes there is a castle in the forest much less a scary beast living there.”

“But you believe it?” she pressed.

“Yes.”

“Why?” she furrowed her brow. Why was this man so different from the others in the town? Did he know something, the others did not?

“I’ve seen the castle,” he told her answering her silent question. “I know every part of the forest.”

“How can you?”

“That is a story for another time,” he laughed, “but I should probably tell you, I saw an otter this morning.” He looked at her innocently, which she could not take at face value. She could not believe that Draco mentioning an otter was a coincidence. Her eyes few to his, but she could not read his expression, nor were she completely sure of his meaning.

“I like otters,” Mr Granger said from the bed looking at the two young people, “but I didn’t think they lived around here.”

“Oh, they don’t,” Draco informed him quite seriously while looking at Hermione. “I guess the otter came from the forest.”

At that moment she knew that he knew her secret, but she didn't understand how he could possibly know. Hadn’t Tom said only magical beings could see or sense the Patronus? Then Draco had to know magic! Instead of replying to Draco, she turned to her father. “Father, do you need anything?”

“No, my dear. Now that you are home, I can finally relax,” he told her smiling widely, but he was getting tired. She fluffed his pillows and helped him get comfortable, before she left him to have an undisturbed sleep.

As soon as the door to the bedroom closed behind her, she spun to face Draco. “What do you know?”

“Somethings,” he replied seriously without even saying anything.

“Tell me!”

“I don’t know you, so why should I tell you?”

“I could say the same to you!” she challenged.

“Yes, but I have the advantage of having heard most of your adventure from your father already,” he pointed out.

“Is that why you’ve been helping him? To hear stories of a magical castle!” she hissed at him, before she quickly recognised Draco had done nothing to harm her father, so she added in a friendlier tone, “I’m sorry! You’ve been taking care of my father when I could not. Thank you for that.”

“You are welcome,” he said with a wry smile. “It was actually just by chance that I found him in the forest.”

“Why? What happened?”

“As he said he was in the forest trying to reach the castle, but he got lost. I am familiar with the forest and came across him, as he was calling for help, so I helped him.”

“What is wrong with him?”

“He’s suffering from fatigue, distress, and exhaustion. Conditions that in themselves are not fatal.”

“Are they fatal in combination?”

“I don’t think so, but he is not improving as I would have liked,” he admitted

“Will he get better?”

“Now that you are back, I think that will help him greatly. Your imprisonment at the castle has caused him much distress and sorrow.”

“You think, just knowing I am home will help him?”

“Yes,” he replied, “but now I’ve admitted to knowing somethings and I would really want some answers from you.”

“Fine,” she sighed but smiled. “What do you want to know?”

“Does a monster really live at the castle?”

“Don’t call him that,” she hissed, turning from Draco feeling guilty for having ever considered Tom a monster. “He is no monster. He is as human as any of us.”

She let him ask many questions and she answered as truthfully as she could. He asked about the castle and how it came to be cursed. He also wanted to know about the servants and the enchantment. Finally, when he had asked just about a million questions, she quickly interjected a question of her own.

“Can you do magic?” she asked.

“Yes, I can _perform_ magic,” he admitted correcting her. “It’s why I spend so much time in the forest. It is a safe place to practise.”

“Oh, I hadn’t realised that.”

“That is the general idea. It wouldn’t be a safe place to practise, if everybody knew about it, now would it? Did you learn magic at the castle then?”

“Why would you assume I learned it there?”

He smiled, “because your father does not know about magic, and I am sure he would have known if you had been learning before you disappeared.”

“You are right,” she sighed. Suddenly, she remembered something important. “Do you know about magical potions?”

“Only very little,” he admitted. “Why do you ask?”

“Tom gave me a bag of potions before I left. They were to help my father, but I don’t know which ones to use.”

Draco considered the dilemma before suggesting, “I can bring my mother.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I can’t really help you with potions, but my Mother can. She is a witch and a very good one at that. May I bring her?”

“Yes, of course. If you think she can help she would be very welcome,” Hermione hurriedly confirmed.

Draco left shortly after with a promise to be back within a couple of hours. Hermione set the potions up on the kitchen table. It would provide a better overview for Draco’s mother to see what was available. Next, she checked on her father, but he was sleeping. Only then did she remember Philippe and decided to take care of him. He needed a good brushing of his coat, but also his mane and tail. His dash through the forest had thrown a lot of mud on him. She spent quite a while grooming Philippe, but he definitely needed it, and deserved it.

Draco and his mother arrived just over two hours later. The woman, whom Draco introduced as Narcissa, looked almost like an angel with her pale skin and soft, grey eyes.

Narcissa quickly took stock of the situation; she pushed the younger people out of the bedroom, when they followed her in, and ran a few tests on Mr Granger. Then she looked over the potions and grabbed two of the vials. One of them she held out to Hermione with a, “you need a Pensieve,” before she took the other vial into the bedroom for Mr Granger.

“What's a Pensieve?” Hermione asked Draco as his mother closed the door to the bedroom.

“It's basin made from stone or metal,” Draco informed her. “It's used to watch memories.”

“Memories? You can't watch memories,” Hermione said uncertain looking at the vial in her hands.

“With magic you can,” Draco smiled at her ignorance. “You remove the memories and they can then be view from a non-participant point of view.”

“Why should I need such an object… a Pensieve?”

“Because you are holding a vial of memories,” he pointed out.

“What? But where did they come from?” she asked holding up the vial and looking at it. The vial held a cloud-like silvery substance. “This vial was among the other potion vials, but why would it be there?” Hermione asked in confusion. She kept looking at the vial, turning it over in her hands.

“Am I correct in assuming; the monster packed the potions for you?”

“Yes, but why…,” she started before she realized where Draco was going. “Do you think he...?”

“It's the best guess, is it not? But he must have known that you have no Pensieve, so why would he give you a vial of memories?”

“I wouldn't even know they were memories.”

“And he also hid them among the potions vials. Why?” Draco mused. “Perhaps you were not even supposed to find them now. Want to see what they are?”

“But I don’t have a Pensieve.”

“I know where we can find one,” Draco smirked.

Hermione agreed easily, as she was very curious to see what memories Tom had left for her and why he had hidden them. “Can we go now, while your mother takes care of my father?”

Draco asked his mother to remain at Mr Granger’s side, while he and Hermione went back to the Malfoy house to watch the memories. She looked at them sternly before agreeing to their scheme.

It took them just about half an hour to go to a small house, smaller than the cottage the Grangers lived in even. Draco found the Pensieve easily enough. It had been in the family for many hundreds of years, so it was both aged and used to look upon, but it still functioned without difficulties. Hermione added he memories and they watched them swirl around in the basin. She looked at Draco determined and they bent their heads over the Pensieve.

…

Hermione looked around; they were in a corridor in the castle. She could not say which corridor specifically, but she recognised the castle easily enough.

"The castle?" Draco asked and she just nodded in confirmation. "Why are we here?"

"I don't know," Hermione admitted looking around. A pale young boy with dark hair ran past them with a terrified expression on his face. He looked familiar somehow. Where had she seen him before? Suddenly, she remembered. He was the boy in the painting at the castle, the painting Tom had shown her when he told her, who he had killed. The boy had to be a young version of Tom. "Tom," she called but he didn't acknowledge her.

"He can't hear you," Draco said. "This is just a memory. We cannot interact or change anything."

They heard screams that followed the boy as he ran along the corridor.

“ _I'm gonna beat the freakiness out of you, boy!”_ a man's voice screamed.

“ _Tom, please! Don't hurt him!”_ a woman's much softer voice begged.

“Who are they?” Draco asked.

“The child, I believe, was Tom the current inhabitant of the castle.”

“The monster?”

“Please, don’t call him that,” she begged, “but yes.”

"So if the child was your Tom, do you think the other Tom, the one screaming, is his father?" Draco asked.

"That would make sense, wouldn't it?" Hermione replied. "Old families have a tendency to reuse the same names." As she spoke they were flung from the memory into another.

…

They arrived in the kitchen. It looked so similar to how it looked, when Hermione was there, that she half expected her friends to come through the door. She looked around and saw Mrs Potts, but she was much younger than the woman, Hermione had met.

Mrs Potts was sitting at a table with the young Tom. She was cleaning cuts he had on his hands and arms, when a man ran into the Kitchen.

“ _Tom, hide_ ,” the man yelled. “ _He is coming_.”

Tom jumped promptly from the chair and ran for the door to the storage room. He had just made it out of sight as the door to the kitchen was thrown open. An elderly man walking with a cane, entered the kitchen.

“ _Where's the boy_ ,” the man hissed angrily. “ _He needs a whooping for the trouble he causes my son_.”

“ _Sir Thomas_ ,” Mrs Potts said calmly. “ _Your grandson is not in here_.”

The old man looked around the kitchen, not believing her, but he did not find the little freak he was hunting for. He turned to Mrs Potts instead, “ _if I find you are hiding him I'll fire the lot of you_!” he spat before he left the kitchen.

Mrs Potts turned to the man who had warned them. “ _I don't know how to protect Tom from them_.”

“ _We have to do our best for the boy. He is innocent in all of this, Poppy,_ ” the man said.

“ _You are right, Frank. Sometimes I wish we could just leave the castle and bring Tom with us. His family would not miss him!_ ”

Hermione wondered why it seemed like Tom’s family hated him so much, while the servants wanted to protect him no matter the cost. Was this the reason, why he was protecting the servants so well even now?

…

They found themselves in what looked to be a bedroom. On the bed lay a figure and a woman sat on the edge of the bed. Hermione and Draco moved closer, and recognised the horizontal figure as Tom, but the woman was unknown to them. In this memory, Tom was older and taller than before, but he was still the handsome boy and not the monster.

“ _Tom,”_ the woman whispered caressing his cheeks. _“Your father didn't mean it.”_

“ _That man only wants to see our pain,”_ Tom yelled _._

“ _No, you are mistaken,”_ the woman tried to reason _. “We are his family. He loves us.”_

“ _Mother, you are blind. He does not care for us at all. If he could he would have gotten rid of us a long time ago. One day he's going to kill us.”_

This close Hermione and Draco were able to see the many bruises and cuts covering Tom's face, neck, and arms.

"He's badly hurt," Hermione whispered exchanging a concerned glance with Draco. "Do you think the father beats them?"

"It's starting to look like it," Draco replied as they were flung into a new memory.

…

Tom was walking along a different corridor. He was taller and his face was set in a hard expression. Hermione and Draco followed him as he poked his head into different rooms, before entering a room where a middle aged man was sitting. The man looked very similar to Tom, and she recognised him from the painting. This was Tom Senior, one of the people Tom had admitted killing.

“ _You hurt my mother,”_ Tom said to the man.

“ _What of it,”_ his father replied without remorse without looking at the boy _. “She had it coming.”_

“ _Don't you dare hurt her again.”_

"I don't like where this is going," Hermione admitted looking to Draco.

“ _Who's going to stop me - you?”_ the man finally looked at the boy _. “You mother is a freak who used magic to trick me. I will never stop making her pay for that. She destroyed my life and saddled me with you.”_

“ _You will not speak of my mother like that,”_ Tom yelled.

“ _Again I ask; who's going to stop me?”_ the man smiled.

Instead of replying the boy jumped at the man catching him off guard. They punched and kicked each other. The man fell to the floor and the boy jumped on him and put his hands around his neck strangling him. From where Hermione was standing, looking on in complete shock, she could see the boy's eyes were full of hate. Hermione knew then and there that the boy would kill the older man, but suddenly, the mother rushed into the room and tried to push her son away. She was covered in bruises on her face and had a black eye.

“What the hell happened in this family?” Draco asked looking to Hermione.

“ _Tom, stop it!”_ the mother screamed trying to push him away from his father. As the boy turned his head to his mother his eyes softened and his grip loosened on the man, who then used the opportunity to punch the boy in the face sending him flying over the floor. The man got up and pushed the woman out of his way forcefully enough to make her hit the wall. The man looked down at the boy _._

“ _Son of a bitch,”_ he hissed before he kicked him repeatedly.

“Tom admitted to killing his father and grandparents,” Hermione replied looking to Draco.

“ _Tom, please,”_ the mother begged _. “He's your son.”_

“ _He's not my son,”_ the man spat but he stopped kicking the boy, who lay motionless on the floor. _“He is your bastard!”_

“I'm starting to see why he would do that,” Draco said calmly. “The father is crazy.”

…

In the next memory they found themselves in their village; it looked very different, but some houses were the same. They saw Tom walking by and quickly they followed him as he headed towards the inn.

“ _Tom!”_ a boy called drawing their attention. He had been hiding in the shadows of the inn as if he was just waiting for Tom to arrive. When he walked into the light, they saw he looked to be about the same age as Tom but taller.

“Hey, he kinda looks like you,” Hermione said looking at Draco. The boy had the same white-blond hair and pale skin.

“ _Abraxas,”_ Tom replied with a smile, _“why are you out here?”_

Draco tensed as he looked at the white-haired boy.

“Do you know him?” Hermione asked.

“ _I need to tell you something,”_ Abraxas said.

“He's my great-great, I've forgot how many great… grandfather,” Draco replied.

“ _Can it wait? I'm here to see Bella,”_ Tom replied _._

“Abraxas Malfoy,” Draco said. “I recognize him from the family tree….”

“ _It's about her,”_ Abraxas sighed _._

“ _What is it?”_

“…but I think he lived about three or four hundred years ago,” Draco continued.

“ _Your father is here,”_ Abraxas said, _“and he's with Bellatrix.”_

“Four hundred years ago?” Hermione asked surprised. “Are you sure?”

“More or less,” Draco admitted.

“ _No, he can't be. He would not be interested in a tavern maid,”_ Tom said sure of himself, _“and Bella loves me. She would never…”_

“ _Your father knows you love her!”_ Abraxas interposed _, “We both know he would do anything to hurt you.”_ Tom's expression turned hard.

…

They were back in the castle again. It was a bedroom, but a smaller one than they were in before. They recognised Tom sitting on the bed and a man lying down.

“ _I'm sorry, young master,”_ the man whispered.

“ _It's not your fault, Frank. I could never blame you,”_ Tom replied holding the man’s hands. _“My father realised you knew my secrets and beat you until you told him about Bella. Had you resisted more he would have killed you.”_

“Oh, Tom,” Hermione whispered trying to put her hand on Tom’s shoulder.

“ _I gave your secrets away,”_ the man whispered. _“I was too weak.”_

“ _You are not weak. I know how hard my father's punches are,”_ Tom replied. _“I don't blame you.”_

“ _I broke your trust._ ” the man cried as tears ran down his cheeks.

“ _Hush now, Frank. I trust you with my life,”_ Tom replied. _“You and Poppy have been more like parents to me than my own family.”_

…

They were still in the castle, but the room was one she had never seen before. Screams and shouts as well as the sounds of punches could be heard. As Hermione looked around she saw Tom and his father fighting each other on the ground. It looked like the father had the upper hand since he was bigger and could hit harder. Tom was on the floor and he was bleeding.

“ _You hurt Frank!”_ Tom shouted not giving up rising to his feet.

“ _He deserved what he got!”_ his father shouted back.

“ _He didn't deserve that,”_ he angrily yelled trying to kick his father.

“ _Next time I kill him,”_ the older man cried with a menacing smile.

“ _I'll kill you.”_ Tom shouted and took a swing at his father, who easily ducked and hit Tom on the jaw knocking him down.

“ _Threats! It's all you can do. You don't have what it takes! You are weak,”_ his father screamed picking up the fireplace poker raising it above his head ready to swing it down and strike his son, but before he could do it Tom moved out of the way and got to his feet.

“ _Don't you dare hurt him or anyone again,”_ Tom yelled in anger. The door swung shot, the curtains swayed, and the windows rattled by a strange magical wind. _“Don't you dare lay a finger on any of us ever again!”_ He raised his hands and the wind intensified. Then he swung his arms and the wind seemed to erupt into a storm that sent his father flying. He hit the wall in the other end of the room with such force that Hermione and Draco wondered if he had died.

Tom looked at his father with nothing but contempt on his face, but slowly his hard features changed to concern and he moved over to the body and poked it with his boots. The man didn't stir.

“Is he finally dead?” Draco asked.

Hermione looked on in horrified fascination.

“ _What did you do!”_ an elderly woman screamed from the door.

“ _I didn’t do_ _anything!”_ Tom yelled back.

“ _You hurt my son!”_ the woman screamed back and rushed over to the still unmoving body. She kneeled down next to him and tried to wake him, but he only groaned.

“He's not dead yet apparently,” Draco said feeling disappointed.

…

They found themselves back in the kitchen, where they saw Tom hugging Mrs Potts close. They were both crying freely and leaning on each other.

“I feel like we are intruding,” Draco said looking at Hermione and she nodded.

“ _I'm so sorry,”_ Tom whispered. _“It's my fault Frank is dead.”_

“… _not your fault…,”_ Mrs Potts cried into his shoulder.

“ _My father and grandfather killed him because of me,”_ Tom admitted

“ _My husband knew what he was doing,”_ Mrs Potts cried. _“He loved you so much.”_

“ _I loved him too. He was the father I wished I had,”_ Tom cried.

…

This time they found themselves in a sitting room. The furniture was broken and thrown about the room. In the middle stood Tom, tall but hunched over. Blood was running from a cut on his forehead, but he didn’t seem to notice. As Hermione walked closer, she could see his eyes were glued to his father, who stood close to the window. Both men looked at the other with eyes full of hatred.

“ _You will never hurt anyone again,”_ Tom spat.

“ _You don't have the guts, boy!”_ his father screamed.

In reply Tom raised his wand and pointed it straight at the older man. “ _Avada kedavra,”_ he yelled, rage burnin through him, and green light erupted from the wand and hit his father in the chest.

Tom Senior fell to the ground unmoving.

“The killing curse,” Draco muttered in surprise. “The father's not getting up any more.”

Tom stood motionless and just looked at his father's body. He didn't seem to notice when the door behind him opened and his mother rushed in. She looked at Tom, but couldn't see the body of the elder Tom in front of her son. Instead her eyes were caught by something to the left of her son and she slowly walked over to take a closer look.

Hermione looked at what had caught the mother’s attention, and saw two bodies there. It was the elderly couple, whom Hermione had guessed to be Tom's grandparents. They looked to be dead.

This was the night Tom had killed his grandparents and his father!

From her new vantage point the mother could see around Tom and saw the body. With a cry she rushed over and fell to the ground besides him. She checked his pulse and caressed his forehead tenderly.

“ _You've killed him!”_ she screamed turning on her son. Tom was standing as if he was frozen to the spot. _“How could you do such a heinous act?”_

“ _He was a monster,”_ Tom said quite calmly. _“He hurt everyone around him.”_

“ _I love him!”_

“ _I don't care!”_ Tom yelled back in anger. _“Your love could not change his monstrous personality!”_

“ _You don't know love.”_

“ _That man didn't know how to love.”_

“ _You are the monster!”_ his mother yelled back. _“I can never forgive you!”_

“ _I don't need your forgiveness.”_

“ _I curse you,”_ she screamed loudly. She rose to her feet and the eyes that looked at her son were half crazy with grief. _“You are a heartless monster and I punish you. I curse you!”_ She whispered a few words that Hermione could not hear and sent a blue ball of energy straight at her son, who did not defend himself. The ball connected with Tom and sent him flying backwards, but where he had been standing just a moment before an object was floating in mid-air as if held up by invisible strings.

The object was a heart and as Tom's mother moved her hands the heart flew towards her. She made to catch it but it flew past her and crashed through the window behind her. It landed on the ground somewhere outside the castle.

 _“The monster is heartless! And all those who live here shall suffer with him!”_ she screamed and laughed before she ran from the room.

“She's definitely crazy,” Draco acknowledged and Hermione agreed, “but she also definitely cursed him.”

“ _She_ cast the curse?” Hermione asked surprised. “Why would any mother do that to her child?”

“What happened to the mother?” Draco urged.

“She killed herself.”

“If she killed herself on this night, she could very well have bound the castle in a dark enchantment,” Draco informed her.

“How so?”

“Blood magic,” Draco said. “When she said ‘all those who live here will suffer with him’ she could very well have invoked an enchantment to be linked to the curse.”

They turned to look at Tom, who had not risen from the ground. When they looked at him his appearance was slowly changing. His skin paled more and more until it was completely white, his face changed to look almost like a skull. His body seemed to lose all fat and muscles as the skin resettled over his bones and gave him skeleton features.

…

Once they entered the next memory, they found themselves in the library. It was a place Hermione had been many times, but Draco had never been there before, so he looked around in wonder. They watched as Tom, now looking completely like the monster, walked over to the shelves. He placed back the book he was holding and picked another. He opened it where he was and looked through it. Draco bent down and looked at the cover.

“Protective Potions,” he read. “What does…”

“ _Argh!_ ” suddenly Tom let out an inhumane yell and clutched at where his heart should be. He stood like that for a few moments, while his face became even paler than normal. Taking a few deep breaths he rose to his full height and his expression was hard. _“If that girl destroyed the tree…,”_ he hissed while the library suddenly disappeared to be exchanged with the garden.

“Magical travel,” Hermione explained to Draco, but he looked at her strangely.

“Apparition,” he corrected smugly.

“Is that what it is called?”

“Hey, isn't that you?” Draco pointed and she looked in the direction. They saw memory-Hermione standing near a rose tree and Tom angrily walking towards her.

“I remember this,” Hermione said sadly. “Oh no, it's pretty bad.”

“There must be a reason he wants you to see this memory,” Draco said grabbing her wrist and dragging her closer.

“ _What the hell are you doing?”_ they heard Tom yell as he grabbed memory-Hermione and yanked her away from the tree. _“What is it with you and your father to cut and destroy my rose tree?”_

“ _I…,”_ memory-Hermione looked shocked and terrified.

“ _Get away,”_ he barked and pushed memory-Hermione out of his way. Tom slowly ran his hand along the bark. Draco and Hermione watched as memory-Hermione fled towards the castle, and when she was out of sight Tom once again clutched at his heart and took a deep breath. _“The blackness is spreading too fast now,”_ he whispered touching the part where memory-Hermione had forced the knife in. _“Damn the girl for her curiosity! Is she deliberately trying to kill me?”_ he spat angrily.

“Is the rose tree connected to his life somehow?” Hermione looked at Draco with shock written all over her features. “The rose tree is dying!”

“I don't know,” Draco admitted, “but it does seem like it.”

Before they could discuss it more the scene changed.

…

Hermione smiled as she saw where they were. This was her favourite place in the castle; the laboratory. They saw memory-Hermione run from the room.

“ _Damn it_ ,” Tom cursed hitting the table surface with force.

Draco looked at her in confusion and she clarified, “this is when he let me go.”

Suddenly Tom looked up with a gleam in his eyes. “ _Hermione_ ,” he sighed and his eyes were looking straight at her.

“Yes?” she tried not understanding how Tom knew she was there.

“… _if you can hear me now then you found a way to watch the memories. I don't have much time to explain_ , _I've been tricking you so that you would not ask questions about the curse. If you asked I would answer and it would all become real. These past few weeks I have been pretending it was not true.”_ He sighed deeply, before continuing. _“I am dying. Soon I will be dead and when I die the castle will be without a protector. That is why we made all the potions and the protective ward to secure my servants. They are not from this time and will not have a home to go to. The castle is their home, and it will stand tall for them as a safe haven. In time the forest will bury the castle even more deeply than it is now. Hopefully no one will ever realize where it is, so I ask that you destroy these memories when you have seen them. Let no trace of us be, please.”_

“No, you can't die!” Hermione cried as she ran around the table to him. As she moved closer to him she saw his eyes did not follow her and she realized he was not seeing her but speaking out loud in a hope that she would see his memory of it.

“ _My memories should make the curse and my past clear to you. I hope you can one day forgive me for the pain I caused you and your father,_ ” Tom grabbed a vial from a cupboard and she recognized it as the vial that held his memories.

“Tom…,” she whispered not sure what to say.

“He can't hear you,” Draco said quietly.

“ _It was a pleasure to know you – you truly are remarkable. I wish we could have met under better circumstances. Though I never deserved your kindness or your friendship, I will never forget all you did for me and my friends,”_ his voice sounded strained by emotions.

“I will find you again,” she whispered as the tears ran freely from her eyes.

“ _Goodbye, Hermione._ ”

Draco didn't say anything as he watched them. He wondered if they had realised they loved each other. He might not know any of them, but both their eyes shone when they thought of the other.

As the memory ended Hermione and Draco found themselves back at the Malfoy home.


	5. Falling

Tom was in the library reading about wards. He had so little time left, but he needed to know he had done what he could to protect the castle and his friends living there. He didn't have much time to finish his preparations since both his energy and his magic was already failing him, badly. So far his fingers were the worst; he had already lost the feeling in them and often times dropped whatever he was holding. He could no longer brew potions and even working magic spells had become difficult.

“Tom?” Mrs Potts called opening the door making him look up from his book. She didn’t call him by his name usually, so why the change?

“Come in,” he said slowly rising from the chair, but he winced in pain. Damnation! Even moving now caused him pain; he could not have long to live. “What can I do for you, Poppy?” he asked trying to sound calm.

“I have to talk to you,” Mrs Potts informed him as she closed the door behind her. She stood before him with a slight smile and soft eyes. “I remember,” she whispered. “I remember everything!” she spoke gently, but Tom flinched as if she had hit him.

“When?”

“The day Hermione left,” she said. “My memories have slowly been returning over the last month but it was only the day she left that I remembered everything.”

“You must hate me,” he whispered with his head bent not daring to look at her.

Instead of replying she pulled Tom into a hug and held him close. His arms hang still at his side unsure what to do. He hated himself for entrapping the servants in the castle, for being the reason Frank died, for hurting everyone around him.

“I killed Frank,” he admitted with a strained voice.

“No, you didn’t,” she replied softly caressing his back. “Your father did.”

“Because of me,” he argued. “Frank held my secrets.”

“Do not blame yourself, Tom. Frank never did.”

“You and Frank were more like parents to me than my own mother and father ever were,” he admitted. His arms encircled her and he hugged her as fiercely as she hugged him. The pain in his body had returned tenfold, but he needed the forgiveness Poppy was offering, so he hung on to her.

“Frank was so proud of you,” she whispered. “He loved you like a son, and he would do all in his power to protect you.”

“You both protected me. I wish I could have done the same for you.”

“You did the best you could,” she informed him leaning back a little to look straight into his eyes, “both then and now.”

For a while neither of them spoke, they were reminiscing about the past while they hugged each other.

“I'm dying,” he eventually said.

“I know,” she said hugging him closer before releasing him. “Your mother's curse.”

“I don't have much time. You've seen the rose tree.”

“Can't something be done?”

“I've tried all I can think of on the tree, but it is wilting and when it dies so do I. I have tried to prepare the castle. I will protect you all this time,” he swore, but before the last word was out of his mouth his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed. Only Mrs Potts quick action to catch him stopped him from hitting the floor hard.

She called his name loudly, but he was completely unresponsive and limp in her arms. Then she felt the tears run down her cheeks, as she left him gently on the floor while rushing for help.

…

“Hermione, what do we do?” Draco asked after they had just been ejected from the Pensieve. She stood immobile with tears running down her cheeks. She had just seen snippets from Tom’s life and the murders he had committed, yet she could not consider him a monster. After years of abuse and psychological torture, he had finally broken down and ended the reign of terror by killing his father, only to be cursed by his own mother for it. She respected him for not losing his control earlier and, though there probably had been other options, she could not blame him for the killings.

“I have to go back,” she whispered looking at Draco. She didn’t consider the reason for her burning need to be back at the castle with Tom, she just knew she had to be there. “I need to go back to him.”

“Of course,” he replied, “but I don't know if we can save him.”

“You would help me?” she asked surprised.

“Yeah,” he agreed giving her a small smile, “but we cannot leave today. The evening is too dark to enter the forest safely.”

It was surprisingly easy to convince Mrs Malfoy to take care of Mr Granger for a few days, and Mr Granger readily accepted their story of needing some fresh air and new surroundings, Mrs Malfoy did not, but they promised to explain everything later, so she let them go.

Early the next morning, just after the sun had risen, they set out. Walking through the forest took longer than she had expected. Her mad dash on Philippe the day before had twisted her expectations of the distance.

“What happened to your father?” she asked in an attempt to keep her mind off Tom and the castle.

“He died just after I was born,” Draco said.

“What happened?” she asked, “if you don't mind be asking.”

“I'm not sure,” he admitted, “Mother wouldn't say.”

“I'm sorry.”

“What happened to your mother?” he asked.

“The fever claimed her,” she said. “I still miss her.”

“When?”

“Little over three years ago.”

“I never knew my father,” he said after a while, “so I have a hard time missing him. Losing your mother when you were… what?... fifteen?”

“Fourteen, actually,” she admitted.

“I don't know what I would have done without my mother,” he said reminiscing. “She was the rock that kept our family strong even when others judged us or looked down at us.”

“Your mother seems to be a very strong woman,” she admitted missing her own mother even more.

They walked on in silence for a while, before Draco finally asked the question Hermione dreaded.

“How are we going to save him?”

“I don’t know,” she snapped having considered the same question since they saw the memories. She had no answer and her mind was too caught up in the fear for Tom’s life to function properly. She had absolutely no idea about what to do, but she had to try anyway.

“You know him best,” Draco snapped back. “You must have an idea!”

She looked at him almost hopeless, but then she had an idea. “I guess we should save the tree?”

“How? If he cannot save the tree why should we be able to?” he asked.

“I can't just give up, Draco.”

“I'm not asking you to. You need to think further than just the tree!” he tried to reason. Didn’t she realise that she had knowledge of the curse, the monster, and the magic of the castle, so if they were going to save the monster, she had to be more decisive! Now she was just lost in her own thoughts and not thinking further than going to the castle.

“Like what?” she snapped.

He sighed, why was she so stubbornly not willing to think? “What do we know about the curse?” he asked gently.

“That it affects all the people living in the castle and caused an enchantment so all the servants forgot their past.”

“And it didn't affect you when you were there, so you'd probably had to be there when the curse was cast,” he supplied. “What else do we know?”

“Why don’t you just tell me the answer since you so clearly know?” she snapped at him.

He looked at her in frustration. “I don’t know everything. You know so much more about the curse. If we are going to save the monster and the castle, we are going to need all your knowledge.”

“Right, sorry,” she whispered. “The curse was cast by his mother,” she pointed out trying to be helpful. She was finally catching on to what Draco was doing. Discussing what they knew, might provide more information that they could use.

“But she seemed crazy when she cast,” he reminded her. “And she's dead anyway. Suicide, you said?"

“Yes, that's what Tom said.”

“Tom is the only one who remembers everything?”

“Yes, because the curse is linked to him,” she replied.

“And to the rose tree. But what links Tom to the tree and vice versa?” he asked her. “Apart from the curse there has to be a connection between them.”

“I don't know,” she admitted. “Maybe his heart?”

“The heart, the mother removed, which flew through the window,” he considered. “So where did the heart actually end up?”

“Outside. The heart ended up outside…,” she stopped walked and actually considered the problem. “He could have gotten the heart back, but I don’t think so. I think it was no joke, when he called himself a heartless monster. He truly is heartless. So the heart is still outside? Is it…?” she turned to Draco with a question burning on her lips. “Is the rose tree the heart? Is that how they are connected?”

Draco looked at her in confusion before his eyes cleared in understanding, “actually, I think that might be possible.”

“But that tree is magical and when it dies so does he,” she cried in frustration. “He needs his heart back!”

“So how do we put a tree inside a person?” he asked.

“I don't know, but he was turned into a monster when his heart was removed. Is it not likely that giving back his heart will reverse it?”

“Sure, let's just hope we don't kill your monster doing it,” he said with a wry smile, but she didn’t find it funny.

…

After walking for hours, they finally reached the clearing and the castle. With a deep sigh Hermione pushed the gate open and felt the magic wash over her. She looked at Draco and saw him easily walk towards her.

“Why can you cross the barrier?” she asked surprised. “Tom said it would protect the castle from intruders.

“Ah, well,” Draco started. “I might have sneaked up to the castle once or twice.”

“You… what?” Hermione turned to him her eyes burning with questions. “How, when…?”

“I told you I know the forest very well. A big magical castle was too tempting to not look a little closer at.”

“But why did the servants never mention you?”

“I never went inside,” he admitted. “The castle has such a strong magical feel to it, but it didn’t feel inviting.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“I figured it wasn’t important.”

She looked at him. Had he really been to the castle before, but why hadn’t he said anything? Could she actually trust him? Apart from not telling her about his trips to the castle, he had not actually lied to her and, she had to admit, he had also been quite helpful. She sighed and trusted her gut feeling that Draco was on her side and that she was not bringing the devil to the castle. She looked to the castle, but was scared when seeing it dark and deserted. What would they find? Were they already too late?

She rushed to the front door, all thoughts of Draco and whether he could be trusted aside. Once inside the hall the lights lit up like they used to for her, and she followed the direction they were leading her. Whatever Tom said, the lights were guiding her and never had she appreciated it more. She was led to the library, and hurried inside. There she saw two people sitting and one person lying down on a couch. Her heart stopped as she recognised Tom on the couch.

At the sound of someone rushing into the library Mrs Potts rose from her chair to tell them to be quiet and leave.

“Hermione,” Mrs Potts sighed in relief seeing who the intruder was, but she froze at the sight of Draco. “Abraxas?”

“This is Draco. He's a friend,” Hermione said not focusing on them as she moved over to where Tom was lying. He was unmoving. He looked as if he was dead. No! He couldn’t be. “Tom? Tom, can you hear me?” she whispered shaking him gently. She looked at his pale face, and could not imagine a world where he didn’t live. She could not imagine a world where he didn’t live _with her_ , she corrected in her mind surprising herself.

“He's been unresponsive since yesterday,” Plumette informed her.

“What happened?” Hermione asked stroking Tom’s cheek. He looked so peaceful, so calm, and so friendly, how had she ever seen him as a monster?

“He collapsed in Mrs Potts' arms,” Plumette said. “We think he's been working himself too hard lately to protect the castle.”

“How do we save him?” Hermione asked.

“I don't know,” Plumette admitted.

“I will not give up,” Hermione swore standing up looking fondly at Tom. She would do anything in her power to save him

“The rose tree?” Draco suggested.

“What?” Plumette asked.

“Stay away from the rose tree,” Mrs Potts told Draco sternly. “I will not let you kill my Master.”

“Tom is already dying,” Hermione said emotionless staring at the others. “I will try everything to save him even going to the rose tree!”

“But…,” Mrs Potts said.

“I don't want him to die,” Hermione said harshly. “Do you have any other suggestions?”

“No,” Mrs Potts deflated.

…

Hermione stood before the rose tree; it looked much worse than last time she saw it. The blackness had completely covered the tree. If she was honest, she would have to admit the tree was dead, but she would lie to herself if she had to. Yes, the tree looked wilted but it was not dead. It was not!

“What do we do?” Draco asked looking to her for guidance.

“We have to bring the heart to Tom,” she replied staring at the tree.

“So you want to dig it up and bring it inside?”

“Yes. The tree has to be the heart.”

“Then let us do it,” Draco said trusting her intuition.

They used magic to meticulously remove the dirt from around the tree and the roots. They wanted to be as careful as possible so it took a long time.

“Hey, look here!” Draco called as the dirt fell away revealing the base of the tree. “Do roses grow from bulbs?”

“No, they grow from seeds,” she replied before looking where he was pointing. It did look like a big flower bulb was at the base of the tree, but that couldn’t be. As they looked the bulb moved a little. She leaned closer and with her fingers she removed the surrounding dirt from the bulb, but as she did she could feel the bulb contract.

“The heart,” she whispered in awe looking at Draco, “help me free it.” Roots were sticking out from the heart and also the stem of the rose tree. They worked slowly to remove the roots, the dirt, and the stem, but every time they removed a root the heartbeat was a little fainter.

“This might kill him,” Draco said looking at the tears running freely from her eyes.

“If we don't help him then he will die,” Hermione whispered even as her heart was breaking.

They successfully freed the heart from the rose tree, but as Hermione held it in her hands, she could feel it beating very faintly.

She needed to go to Tom. She had to be in the library with him, and then the world spun around her and she suddenly just was in the library. Startled, Mrs Potts looked up from where she sat on a chair next to Tom holding his lifeless hand.

“How did you..?” she whispered before she shook her head. “Hermione, there is not much time. His pulse is slowing down.”

Hermione stood frozen holding the heart out towards Tom, but she didn't actually know how to put the heart back in his body. Carefully she laid it on his chest, but nothing happened. “I'm not sure how to…,” she started, but as she spoke the heart stopped beating completely. “No!” she exclaimed in panic. “Start beating!” she screamed to the heart, but it didn't listen and remained frozen. The tears were running freely from her eyes. He had to live whatever the cost; she would give anything to save him! “He needs a heart!” she whispered in torment, before she realised she herself had a heart. She would gladly give her life to save his, because she loved him. The sudden realisation of her love for him surprised her. She loved him!

With a smile on her face, but focused only on how to save him, she wished with all of her being to remove her own heart. She didn't consider it or the consequence to herself; she just acted and willed her heart to leave her body. Slowly a golden light erupted from her chest and following it came her heart.

Mrs Potts looked on in stunned disbelief as Hermione removed her own heart. The door to the library burst open and Draco came rushing in with Plumette running after him. Hermione didn't notice them, but Mrs Potts told them not to interfere. She trusted Hermione to do what she could for Tom.

Hermione looked at her own heart now fully out of her body and in her hands. It was beating strong and it would save Tom. She was certain. Slowly she pushed his dead heart away and lay her own on his cold chest. “Save him,” she whispered and the same golden light now erupted from his chest and slowly sucked the heart in. She smiled when the last bit of the heart disappeared into his body. She could feel the heart beating under her hands still placed on his chest and she knew he would survive. As she watched colour rushed to his cheeks and his body filled out. His face lost its skeleton features. She beheld his beloved face, but then the world turned black and she collapsed on the floor.

Her collapse caused Plumette and Draco to act. Mrs Potts was still frozen in shock.

“What do we do?” Plumette asked rushing to Hermione. “She's not breathing!”

“She doesn't have a heart anymore,” Draco said before an idea struck him. “I know what to do. Please, step back.”

Plumette didn't question him and did what he asked. She took Mrs Potts’ hand and the two women looked on as Draco worked. He placed a hand on Hermione's chest and the other hand on Tom's chest.

“ _Simul cor_ ,” he whispered over and over again while he kept his hands on their chests. Slowly a white light rose from them both. The light went upwards from their chests, but then the light from Hermione's chest bent and combined with the light from Tom's chest in an explosion that blinded everyone looking. When the light died down Hermione was still lying on the floor and Tom was still lying on the couch, but they were both breathing.

“I think they'll survive. They just need rest now,” Draco said swaying on his feet. “I need to sit,” the last was said only moments before his legs gave out and he fell to the floor. Plumette hurried over and helped him to sit on a chair.

“Thank you,” Mrs Potts whispered to Draco while making sure both Hermione and Tom was lying down sleeping peacefully.

...

Slowly light floated into Hermione’s mind and she opened her eyes. She groaned as the pain from a headache burned her skull. She looked around the room and noticed she was lying on a couch in the library. Memories rushed back and fear gripped her heart. She gave her heart away, so how could she possibly be alive? Had someone returned it to her, but then what had happened to Tom? She saw a body lying on another couch. He looked like the Tom from the memories, but he was not moving so fearing the worst she jumped up and ran over.

“No, no, no,” she whispered as she kneeled on the floor next to him. Her eyes were watering, so she could hardly see straight. “You can't be dead,” she whispered caressing his cheek.

“I'm not dead,” he replied as his hand moving slowly to capture hers. He opened his eyes and looked at her. As his eyes locked with hers, her emotions broke free and the tears fell freely. Somehow they had both survived.

“Don't cry,” he whispered as he rose to a sitting position on the couch. He picked her up from the floor and sat her on his lap to comfort her. His arms encircled her and she buried her head in his neck, but her tears didn't stop. “Don't cry, my dear,” he whispered into her hair as she slowly got her emotions under control.

“I thought…,” she started. “I thought you were dead.”

“You came back… to me?”

“Of course,” she whispered back smiling, “I had to come back. This is where I belong.”

“But why? I have been nothing but a beast to you.”

“Because I love you,” she admitted.

“I love you too,” he whispered hugging her close to his body, before planting a kiss on top of her head. “But I don't understand how you could possibly love me. I have been nothing but unkind to you since you arrived.”

She leaned back so that she could see his face. Did he not realize how different he was from the Monster? “You are so much more than the monster that locked up my father and scared me,” she said and he looked at her in confusion. “You taught me about magic, let me roam free in the castle, and showed me kindness and friendship. You let me go to my father when he needed me.”

“But that should have been the norm and not something to be considered extraordinary,” he angrily spat.

“Then promise it will be,” she said quickly. “Promise me that from now on you are the man you were up until I left and not the Monster who didn't trust anyone.”

“I promise,” he smiled. “You've been nothing but forgiving of all my sins.”

“I believe the Monster is not who you really are.”

“I don't deserve your love,” he admitted awed that such an angel would lay her love on him. “How can you see goodness in me when I can't even see it myself?”

“If you can't see it, then I suppose I just need to keep you near me so I can remind you again and again for the rest of our lives,” she said matter-of-factly.

“You better do just that,” he agreed laughing before he leaned in and kissed her passionately. “You should marry me.”

“Is that supposed to be a proposal?” she laughed. “I guess you need to practise it a bit.”

“Insolent woman,” he grinned not at all bothered and kissed her again.

…

Draco was still weak hours after having used magic to save Hermione and Tom. He probably had to sleep to regenerate his energy, but found himself otherwise pleasantly engaged as Plumette was fussing around him making sure he had not suffered too greatly.

“I don’t know what magic you did,” she told him, “but I am grateful to you for saving them.”

“I can’t believe Hermione would… could remove her own heart and give it so freely to him,” Draco mused. He had seen her do it, but magic didn’t work like that. His vast knowledge of magic didn’t cover anything like that.

“Her love is pure,” Plumette said as if that explained everything, “and she gave her heart freely.”

“She better be ready for the consequences,” he warned. “As soon as they wake up, I must speak with them. Tom has to know what she did and what it means for her life.”

“What does it mean?” Plumette asked picking up on his alarmed tone.

Just as Draco was about to answer, Mrs Potts rushed passed yelling, “they are awaken!” in happiness.

Soon thereafter every inhabitant of the castle knew Tom and Hermione had woken up and everyone wanted to discuss their memories with Tom and thank Hermione for all her help in breaking the curse. Everyone had their memories back, which Draco assumed had to do with Tom actually being dead for a few moments. With Tom's death the curse was effectively broken.

Draco quickly asked Tom and Hermione to talk in private. He knew he had to tell them about the heart. Looking at how happy they were together he hoped they would take the news well.

“When Hermione saved your life,” Draco started looking at Tom, “she sacrificed her own.”

“Tell me?” Tom asked surprised.

“A heart was returned to your body but it was not your own. Your heart could not be saved; it is dead,” Draco paused remembering the dead heart, and Tom looked at him not knowing what to expect. “The heart that beats in your body is her heart.”

“What?” Tom exclaimed looking at Hermione in confusion. “But how?”

“I couldn't let you die,” she whispered. “I had to try something.”

“Even if it killed her,” Draco added making her blush. “She removed her own heart and gave it to you.”

“How is that even possible?” Tom asked looking between the two.

“I don't know. It really shouldn't have worked, but it did.”

“But she doesn't have a heart then,” Tom realised in anguish. “How is she alive?”

“She's right here,” Hermione interrupted feeling a bit frustrated by the way they were talking about her as if she wasn't even there.

“And you probably have to stay right there for the rest of your life?” Draco replied in frustration.

“How so?” she asked.

“There is no heart in your body, Hermione,” Draco started. “To save you I connected your body to Tom's new heart. If that magic fails, you will die.”

“And separation weakens magical connections,” Tom clarified looking at her horrified. "I need to keep you near me forever to make sure the magic never fails."

“I am not adverse to that plan,” she replied laughing.

“You shouldn’t have to be forced to be by my side…,” Tom said before Hermione cut him off.

“There is no place I would rather be than by your side for the rest of our lives,” she admitted honestly, interrupting him.

“Hermione, you do not realise what you have done!” he exclaimed hotly. “You’ve signed your life away!”

“I gave my heart freely,” she said.

“Your sacrifice is too great. I don’t deserve…”

“Stop it!” she interrupted indignantly. “Do you not realise that I would not be able to live if you had died? I would give much more than just my life to see you live.”

“But…”

“I would gladly do it again,” she interrupted again.

He sighed deeply instead of replying. How could he make Hermione realise the wrongness of her action? He didn’t deserve her sacrifice. She didn’t deserve a fate tied to his.

“What would you have done had it been me dying like that?” she asked weakly. She could not regret her decision to save him, but why was he pushing her away? “Would you have just let me die?”

“No, of course not!” he exclaimed. “I would have done everything I could to save you, to keep you alive.”

“Even if you were risking your life?”

“Of course!”

“Why would you?” she challenged trying to hide her smile. Could he not see the parallel?

“Because I love you!”

“So it is just fine for you to risk everything to save me but not for me to risk everything for you?” she challenged poking him in the chest.

“Yes!” he cried

“Silly me! I never realized there was one set of rules for you and a completely different set for me,” she shouted. “You… you… hypocrite!”

He had no answer to that. Perhaps, just maybe, she had a point, but he would not admit it out loud. “I love you,” was all he said. He visibly deflated and Hermione knew she had him and that he finally understood. “I love you so much.”

“Even when I challenge your archaic views?” she laughed as her anger left her.

“Always,” he smiled looking at her fondly.

“I love you too,” she informed him. “Even when you are being an idiot.”

Instead of replying Tom hugged her close and kissed her senseless, both having completely forgotten about Draco, who had been watching them argue with a wry smile on his face. When their argument turned to passionate kisses and hands reaching for the other, he suddenly remembered some place better to be and went in search of Plumette leaving the two lovebirds to their own devices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to be the last, but I changed my mind. I will make one more chapter as an epilogue.  
> I was never really happy with the ending I originally had written, so when I was editing the story, I decided to change the ending a bit.


	6. Epilogue

With the curse broken and free of the enchantment, everyone affected had to decide what they wanted to do. Tom emptied the vaults and everyone received a large sum of money, which meant they could go live their lives as they wanted. With their memories restored, they could choose to search for their lost relatives or move on with their lives. As more than four hundred years had passed, the world had changed around them, and their families and friends would be dead. They could however still go back if they wanted to. Only one person was curious enough and that was Lumiere. He wanted to know what had happened to his family, the Finnigans, and especially his cousin Fergus. He would seek them out pretending to be a historian and not mention his familial connection. Dean Cogsworth, who had no idea what to do with himself, decided to go with Lumiere. The two friends set out with big smiles on their lips and the best wishes from everyone.

Tom would allow anyone to stay in the castle if they so choose. Quite a few of the servants decided to stay there, as the outside world scared them. The castle was secure and would provide protection for anyone who remained. Those who stayed would never leave the castle, but they were happy to be forgotten by the world around them and live the remainder of their lives forgotten by all but their friends, who had shared the same struggle. Hermione thought it was all very sad and tried to convince them to explore the world instead, but they were utterly unyielding in spite of all of her appeals. Finally, Tom had to interfere; he argued that though she didn’t like their choice, it was still their decisions and that should be respected.

“Ask yourself; are you really helping them or are you actually interfering in something you don’t understand?” he asked patiently. “You know what their wish is, yet you appear to care more for your own moral crusade than the people you are pretending to be helping.”

“I care about them, of course,” she replied feeling stung by his words.

“Then trust them to make their own choices,” he requested kindly. “Would you appreciate it if I told you I knew what was best for you?”

“No, I would not.”

“Because I probably do,” he said with a wry smile, “but I have no right to decide your future. I can tell you my suggestions, but I cannot tell you what to do.”

“I just don’t want them to be forgotten,” she said in small voice.

“Then don’t forget them,” he replied before hugging her close. “I will miss them too, but we can decide to keep them forever in our memories.”

Hermione took his words to heart, and changed the way she viewed the people around her. Perhaps she didn’t know best in all circumstances.

…

Plumette was unsure of what she wanted to do, so she had asked Hermione about the city and her experiences growing up there. After having talked for hours, Plumette decided that she wanted to see it for herself. She longed for the freedom to travel after having been stuck in the castle for so long.

Before she could go however, Draco asked her to come with him back to the village. They hadn’t known each other for long, but he had found her a breath of fresh air and her ease when discussing magic, had impressed him. He had found talking with her stimulating and he found himself dreaming of her brown eyes and wide smile. He had fallen in love with her and she was everything he could ever wish for in a wife, but he was unsure of what she felt. However, he did not wish to see her leave the castle, and him, before he had told her of his feelings.

She didn't hesitate for long, and though it was not the big adventure she had been hoping for and dreaming of, she never regretted going with Draco. He made her smile just by walking into a room, and when he looked at her, the butterflies in her stomach came alive.

They married and for their honeymoon, he took her to the city and showed her the sights there. He told her that if she found the city amazing, they could move there. She loved her husband for his willingness to move to the city for her sake, but she thought the city was too crowded, too big, and generally just too much. Seeing it with her own eyes, made her appreciate her life in the village and she was happy when they returned home.

Plumette, with her open nature and helpful attitude, quickly became very popular in the village and her opinion was asked on a multitude of questions. She was able to bridge a gap between the villagers and the Malfoys.

Narcissa had thought no woman would ever be worthy of her son, but Plumette had surprised her most pleasantly, and the two women got along easily. Narcissa was very ecstatic when she could welcome her first grandchild, a girl called Parvati named after Plumette’s sister. She was quickly followed by two more siblings; Lucius named after Draco’s father, and Hermione nicknamed Minnie, who was named after her mother’s best friend.

…

Tom and Hermione were finally able to sit down and discuss their own future. The others had swarmed them with questions and asked for their opinions, and whenever they found themselves alone for even a short period of time, discussing the future was not the first thing on their minds. They might walk around with their clothes a little askew and with sated looks on their faces, but where was the harm in that? It did mean that when they finally sat down to discuss their future, the rest of the inhabitants of the castle had already made their decisions and some had already left.

“Even with you by my side I will never feel comfortable here at the castle,” Tom admitted. “Anywhere you wish to go, I will go too. Just don’t ask me to stay in the castle, please. There are too many bad memories here.”

It was not difficult for her to agree to leave the castle. Sure, it was grand and luxurious, but it had never felt like home to her. Knowing how much it pained him to stay, she felt no need to remain, and suggested moving to the village instead. However, she did inform him that she expected him to ask her father’s forgiveness.

He looked at her with dread, “I had come to that conclusion also. I just hope he will forgive me for hurting him, kidnapping you, throwing him out on the street, risking his life, risking your life…”

“He can be very stubborn, but just don’t give up,” she begged.

“Never,” he swore smiling at her. “I love you too much to walk away from us.”

He told her how important Poppy Potts was to him. She was family in all but blood and he wanted to take care of her as he had always wished he could. Hermione had no objection to that and happily informed him that it would be fantastic for their future children to have a grandmother like Poppy. He was taken aback by her mention of children, but he hid it well. Though he had never wanted children before, imagining children with Hermione was not difficult, and he swore never to act like his own father had.

Mr Granger found it most difficult to forgive Tom for imprisoning his daughter, but slowly as he saw how much Tom loved his daughter and how much she loved him back, he finally forgave him, but only because Hermione begged him to. However, he didn’t look at Tom with fond eyes, but he did respect his daughter’s choice.

Hermione and Tom had a house build next to Mr Granger’s cottage. They had the funds to move into something even bigger or move to the city, but they both wanted the quiet life of the village and being near their families. Poppy Potts lived with them in the beginning, but quickly felt she was intruding on the newlyweds, and she moved into the cottage with Mr Granger, because as he said, “we old folk have to keep an eye on our children, but not too close an eye if we want grandchildren.” Mr Granger and Mrs Potts found great enjoyment in each other’s company.

Though Tom tried his best to mend his relationship with Mr Granger, it was not an easy task. When Hermione gave birth to her and Tom’s first child, he looked to Mr Granger as a guide on how to be a proper father. When Mr Granger questioned him about it, he told him the truth of his broken home and sorry upbringing. That day marked a turning point in Mr Granger’s life; he had disliked Tom for a long time, but he found he respected the other man for surviving such a terrible childhood. The two men eventually became quite close due to their shared love for Hermione, and Mr Granger eventually saw Tom as a son and not the man-who-stole-my-daughter, and finally they were able to put the past behind them.

When Hermione fell pregnant the second time, there were complications and she was forced on bed rest. To cheer her up Tom moved their bed into the living room and threw open the windows. When she saw the garden through the windows, she burst into tears of happiness. With a bit of magic and some guidance from Mr Granger, Tom had been able to grow the loveliest roses for her to enjoy. The roses where more beautiful than any Hermione had seen before, and Mr Granger suggested a new business for them; selling bags of rose seeds. It was a prosperous business, but required very little work, and Mr Granger was happy to take care of the business of it.

Tom and Hermione never stopped loving each other and their love resulted in five children, who all grew up to be clever, stubborn, and kind. “No child of mine should ever bear my name or that of my family,” Tom swore when Hermione mentioned it, so their first child was a boy named Lewis after her father. He was followed by a sister named Michelle after her mother. Then came Plumette named after Hermione’s favourite friend. She was followed by the twins Tomkin and Rose. Hermione wanted a boy named after her husband, but Tom would not have it; eventually he agreed to Tomkin, nicknamed Tommie.

Tom and Hermione enjoyed lifelong friendships with Draco and Plumette. Plumette and Tom were able to bond over their shared confusion about the world they now lived in, and they quickly forgot their previous roles of master and servant.

After many years, Lumiere and Cogsworth arrived back in the village with stories of the world. They had travelled to countries beyond the known lands. The stories they could tell of sultans in far off places, of riding sleighs across ice-covered countries, and walking on the highest mountains sounded almost like make-belief. Only the gifts and paintings they brought home were so fantastical and peculiar, that the stories had to be true. Lumiere and Cogsworth decided to settle down in the village with their friends. They found great pleasure in being the weird uncles to all the children. Later in their lives they wrote fairy stories from their travels, but their most popular book was the fictional tale of an enchanted castle with a lonely prince under a curse and the beautiful girl who saved him with her love.

And so it was that a small group of people from an enchanted castle ended up living in a little village. They never forgot their time at the castle, but they never let it dictate their lives, and they lived happily for the rest of their days.

**The end**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the love you have shown this story.


End file.
